


The Prince and the Shopkeep

by mermaidchan05



Category: Barbie as The Princess and the Pauper (2004), The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Awkward Romance, F/F, Fluff, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-01-25 20:02:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 160,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21361885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mermaidchan05/pseuds/mermaidchan05
Summary: Prince Damian of Vesuvia wants nothing more than to while away his time with his tutor Julian.  But the kingdom is falling into bankruptcy, and Damian has no choice but to marry the ruler of a distant kingdom, the Majestro Asra, in order to save Vesuvia.Meleia, a seamstress working at Lord Valerius' Fine Clothing Emporium, wants nothing more than to be a singer.  But she's trapped under Valerius' thumb, and she must work to ensure that her fellow seamstress Volta has enough to survive.When Count Lucio hatches a plot to take over the kingdom, Damian and Meleia's lives become thrown together in a way they would never have expected.Basically it's "What would happen if the Arcana characters lived the plot of Barbie's Princess and the Pauper?" with a few twists... and, hopefully, detailed enough for any reader, even those unfamiliar with the original stories! Loosely inspired by various tumblr posts.
Relationships: Asra (the Arcana)/OC, Portia Devorak/Nadia, julian devorak/oc
Comments: 11
Kudos: 19





	1. The Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet Prince Damian, his tutor Julian, Queen Nadia, her right-hand Portia, and discover that both Damian and Julian are complete messes.

Prince Damian was trying his very hardest not to fall asleep on his feet as three-- or was it four?-- royal tailors fluttered around him, making the most miniscule adjustments to his ensemble that they possibly could. It was almost funny: he had absolutely no trouble sitting at his desk for hours on end, pouring over books or projects. But standing there while the tailors painstakingly stitched up his new coat was, apparently, another matter entirely. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open. 

Not that he blamed the tailors, exactly. It wasn’t their fault that standing there being fussed over was incredibly boring. Nor was it their fault that he had been up so late last night. No, _ that _ was entirely his own fault. Though he had to admit that Julian, his tutor, had something to do with it as well. He wondered if Julian had gotten any sleep after that mess... there had been an awful lot of cleanup involved, and Julian had taken it upon himself to make sure the library was put back to normal before Queen Nadia found out, despite Damian’s protests and offers to help. It didn’t seem fair to Damian that his tutor had ended up essentially taking the punishment for Damian’s own mistake... 

The prince was jolted out of his half-aware train of thought by yet another tug on his sleeve. One of the tailors had a habit of pulling things closer to themselves. Usually without warning. The sudden movement made Damian jump, accidentally yanking his sleeve out of the tailor’s grip. 

The tension in the room was instantly palpable. Every single tailor stopped short, pulling back. It was as though something far more dangerous had happened than someone being startled. 

“Oh, beg pardon, your highness,” said the tailor nervously. 

Damian held back a sigh. “No, it was my fault. I was distracted. I didn’t ruin your work, did I?” 

The tailor shook his head. “Not at all, Highness. No harm done... unless you were stuck by one of the pins...?” 

The tailor sounded absolutely terrified at the idea of Damian accidentally being poked. 

“I’m perfectly fine,” Damian assured him. 

The tailor let out a sigh of sheer relief. “Wonderful. Are you ready to continue?” 

Damian would have loved to say that the only thing he was ready for would be a _ nap _, but he knew that wouldn’t go over well. At all. So he resigned himself to a simple nod. 

The tailors instantly went back to work. 

Damian straightened himself up and went back to idly staring in the general direction of the mirror. His mind wandered again, drifting back to his experiment. He’d been trying to find, or make, the world's fastest-growing crystal. It hadn’t gone remotely as planned, but that was part of the reason Damian enjoyed alchemy so much: the thrill of finding what worked, and the puzzles that came with what didn’t. Sometimes, the thrill even came _ from _ what didn’t work. He certainly hadn’t intended to cover the library carpet in a mysterious goo... 

He was jerked out of his thoughts once again. Someone knocked on the door, hitting a very familiar, rhythmic pattern. Damian would know that signature knock anywhere. 

“Come in, Julian,” he said, his tone far brighter than before. 

The door creaked open. Somehow, Damian managed to look without moving his arms out of the tailor’s grips again. Julian eased his way through the door backwards, a tray carefully balanced in his hands. He turned, nudging the door shut with his foot. He stepped casually up to the dias where Damian stood. A lock of his auburn hair fell in front of his eye as he moved. Julian completely ignored it, instead presenting the tray to Damian. 

“Figured you might be hungry,” said Julian with an almost rakish smile. “You’ve been up here for quite a while.” 

Damian couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Julian. Perhaps something to eat _ would _ help me stay awake.” 

Julian chuckled, setting the tray on a nearby table. “That project of yours _ did _ last a little longer than expected, didn’t it?” 

“Much longer,” Damian agreed. “Did you manage to get to bed at all? I would have helped you clean up, but...” 

“But that’s hardly work appropriate for a Prince, is it?” Julian said easily. He was setting up the snack now, elegantly arranging several little cakes. “Speaking of work... do you think your captors will allow you to break away for enough time to eat, or are you far too tied up at the moment?” 

“They have me completely surrounded,” Damian joked. 

Julian chuckled. “Shall I call the guards to come sweeping to your rescue?” 

“I _ have _ heard their pins are very dangerous,” said Damian, trying to keep his tone completely serious. 

But all semblance of anything serious was instantly gone when Julian laughed. Damian couldn’t resist chuckling right along with him. Even the tailors were smiling. Julian tended to have that effect on people. 

“That was a good line, Damian,” said Julian, setting out a teapot. “It seems you’ve gained the upper hand once again. I’ll have to work on my witty comebacks.” 

“When you’re the one who helped me learn the fine art of conversation?” Damian shot back. “_ I _should be practicing to make sure I don’t fall behind. I can’t count the number of guests who have fallen for your stories.” 

Julian shrugged. “Can’t really call them my stories when I’m only repeating what I’ve heard.” 

“Oh?” Damian’s smile was closer to a knowing smirk. “Then the tale of how you chased off a group of bandits single handedly when you were only twelve years old was something someone _ else _ came up with?” 

“Oh, no,” said Julian casually, “_ that _ one was completely true.” 

“That’s not what Portia tells me,” said Damian.

It was only half a jab. Portia, Julian’s sister and Queen Nadia’s favorite maid, had her _ own _ version of that particular story. One that painted Julian in a far more comedic light. 

Julian coughed. “Ah, yes, she _ does _ tell that tale a little differently, doesn’t she? You must admit my version is far more exciting, though.” 

“That’s _ one _ way to put it,” Damian teased. 

This, Damian thought, was exactly how he would like to spend _ every _ royal fitting. Time went by much faster when Julian was there. It didn’t matter whether Julian told stories, or took their lessons on the go, or simply chatted with him. There was never a dull moment with Julian around.

“Well, either way, I have your snack ready for any moment you can attempt an escape from your perilous fight against unkempt clothing,” said Julian. 

He twisted a teacup a bit to make sure it was in the perfect spot on its little plate. Portia had never allowed him to set foot in the kitchens, so Damian tended to doubt that Julian knew anything about making tea. But Julian could always be counted on to set up a great presentation. 

“Thank you, Julian,” said Damian. His tone was utterly heartfelt. 

Julian chuckled. “Any time. Now, then. If I could possibly pull you away...?” 

He shot Damian a smile that was caught somewhere between teasing and pleading. Damian really didn’t know what to do with that smile. It made something in his gut seem to lurch in a way that had nothing to do with hunger. But he didn’t ever get the chance to figure it out, or to even so much as ask the tailors if he could take a small break. At that moment, they were interrupted by another knock at the door. 

The door creaked open before Damian could reply. A young woman with a mop of red hair poked her head in.

“Your Highness?” she called. “Are you decent?” 

Damian sighed. “It’s alright, Portia. I’m dressed.” 

Portia slid easily into the room, closing the door silently behind her. A long list hung loosely in her hand, nearly trailing to the floor. She had barely even opened her mouth to speak before Damian let out another sigh. 

“Let me guess,” said the Prince. “I’m running late?” 

Portia’s eyes sparkled with humor as she replied. “Almost. You have twenty-five minutes before we need to rush over to the Historical Society gathering for your speech.” She checked a watch that dangled from the sash around her waist. “Scratch that: twenty-_ two _ minutes.” 

“Do you really think this will take twenty minutes to finish?” Damian asked no one in particular. 

“That depends on how many sleeves you have,” Julian piped up. “Apparently each one takes an hour.” 

Normally, Damian would have at least attempted a laugh. This time he didn’t even bother. The thought of his endless schedule made all the humor in the situation evaporate. 

“Seems I won’t have time for that tea after all,” said Damian pointedly. 

“We could prepare something for the road,” said Portia.

Her tone made Damian certain that she was already making a mental list of his favorite travel snacks to rattle off to the head cook. The fact that he had very little interest in snacking on the go didn’t really make much difference at the moment with schedules so tight. 

Still... 

“Are you sure we’re really all that busy?” he asked. 

Portia simply lifted up her list, letting it unfold all the way. It turned out that it actually _ did _ reach the floor. And then some. 

Damian let his shoulders slump, which sent the tailors in a slight frenzy. He quickly straightened up. 

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” said Portia. “But you _ know _ we have to get all of this done before our guest arrives. And with Count Lucio due to return soon...”

She trailed off. Count Lucio had been something of a palace fixture for as long as Damian could remember. At least, when the Count was actually _ in _ the castle. When he wasn’t giving Queen Nadia advice on how to run her kingdom, he would often go out to report on the daily goings-on of the city. At the moment, he was on a longer journey across the entire kingdom. Nadia always said that his research was invaluable. Damian always thought that the Count probably spent more time in local taverns and/or clothing shops than he did actually seeing what was happening in the kingdom, but Damian would never admit that aloud. Still, absolutely everyone knew that Count Lucio tended to keep the tailors to himself for long periods of time, which made it all the more important for Damian to get his own fittings done on schedule. 

“I know,” said Damian. “I was only hoping we’d have a few spare seconds to rework last night’s project, that’s all.” 

Portia’s eyebrows instantly raised. “A project?”

“A little extra research, yes,” said Damian lightly. 

Portia huffed, giving Julian a decidedly exasperated look. “Are you _really_ giving His Highness a _research_ _project_ right now? This week? When we have so much else to do?” 

Julian cleared his throat. “Well. I, uh...” 

Portia put her hands on her hips. “Iliya. What have you been doing to our Prince?” 

“Nothing!” Julian said quickly. “I mean, er... it was entirely his idea.” 

Portia’s accusatory stare instantly turned to Damian. “Your Highness, what have you been doing to my brother?” 

“Nothing,” said Damian smoothly. “Just a little extra credit alchemy assignment, that’s all.” 

Julian chuckled.

Portia bit her lip nervously. “Your Highness, you _ know _ we don’t have the time or resources to worry about alchemy right now.” 

“Don’t worry, Pasha,” said Julian, giving his sister a playful smile. “Damian had everything we needed already at hand. And the library’s good as new, so there’s nothing to worry about.” 

“The library?” Portia’s eyes narrowed. “What happened to the library?” 

It was Damian’s turn to try to hide a laugh. “Nothing. Just a rather large pile of orange goop. Entirely my fault. My calculations were a bit off.” 

“On the bright side,” Julian cut in, “the cleaning agent you came up with works like a charm.” He tipped his head towards Damian in a slight, friendly bow. “You always did have a knack for finding the perfect solution.” 

Damian coughed. He ducked his head a bit, trying hard to hide the heat creeping up his cheeks. 

Portia groaned. “You’re both incorrigible.” 

Julian laughed, completely unashamed. Damian, on the other hand, just turned even redder than before. He was the Prince. He wasn’t _ supposed _to be incorrigible. He was supposed to be a proper paragon. The one who would guide his people. To find the perfect solution, as Julian had said. Far easier said than done, of course, but Damian wasn’t about to let that stop him from doing everything he could. 

Portia turned her attention to the tailors. “How’s it going? Almost done?” 

“The coat is nearly pinned,” one of the tailors replied. “After that, we only need to check the hem of his trousers, and the sleeves of his tunic.” 

“More sleeves?” Damian said weakly. 

Julian tried to turn his laugh into a cough. It didn’t quite work out. 

“Don’t worry,” said Portia with a teasing wink. “At least these won’t show when you meet up with the Majestro.” 

“Right,” Damian sighed. For one wonderful moment, he’d completely forgotten what this new suit was actually for. 

“He should be arriving within the week, by the way,” Portia added. “Oh, and I was supposed to tell you that the falconer wants to speak with you when you come back after your speech. Something about bats hiding out in the east forest?” 

Damian was far too tired of hearing all the things he had to do to care about being polite at the moment. At least to Portia. He knew she could handle a bit of sass very easily. 

“I’d forgotten I was suddenly the foremost expert on bats,” said Damian dryly. 

Portia giggled. “Blame Oswald. You take such good care of him, I can’t blame half the castle for thinking you’re a bat-whisperer or something.” 

Almost automatically, Damian looked up to the perch specially fitted to the far wall. There was one like it in nearly every room in the palace. Queen Nadia herself had made sure they were installed the moment that Damian had officially chosen Oswald to his Royal Pet. At least, that’s what most of the staff called the little purplish fruit bat. Damian, on the other hand, called Oswald a close friend. 

Oswald had been dangling contentedly from his perch, completely asleep. His large ears twitched when he heard his name. He opened a single beady eye, regarded the crowd below him, and instantly tucked his head back under his wings.

Damian made a noise that was somewhere between a fond chuckle and a bittersweet sigh. Oswald was skilled at falling asleep practically everywhere. Damian wished he had that talent. And that opportunity. 

“Aww,” Portia cooed. “I’ll just let him rest, shall I? And, Your Highness, if you really do need a break, you’re more than welcome to take one. I’m sure the Historical Society can wait.”

Damian shook his head. “No, I’ll be alright. I wouldn’t want to keep them.” 

“And the sooner you get in, the sooner you can leave, I’m guessing? Smart move. I like it.” 

Julian’s voice had come seemingly out of nowhere. Somehow, Julian had managed to slide himself across the room and end up right next to Damian, tea tray in hand. Damian hadn’t even noticed him. Damian was so startled that he jumped. One foot slipped off the dias. He flailed wildly for purchase, nearly knocked over the entire gang of tailors in the process. 

“Damian!” Julian cried. 

Julian instantly dropped the tea tray, sending tea spilling all over the floor. He lurched forward in an attempt to catch Damian. Damian just barely managed to right himself, accidentally grabbing a tailor’s shoulder. Julian was left almost floundering, his hands uselessly outstretched. 

“I am _ so _ sorry, Damian,” Julian blurted out. “I should have warned you I was coming around, but I--”

“It’s alright, Julian,” said Damian. He let out a slight grunt as he righted himself, pushing off the tailor's shoulder. “No harm done. I hope.” 

“None, Your Highness,” said the tailor, straightening her uniform. 

“Well, aside from the tea stains on the floor,” said Portia, eyeing the mess. 

Both Julian and Damian looked down at their shoes in almost identical expressions of utter embarrassment. 

Portia sighed. “I’ll find the mop.” 

With that, she slid right back out the door, rolling her to-do list up as she went. 

Now that Damian was standing upright again, he could take a closer look at his coat. Thankfully, nothing had spilled on it. And the tailors went right back to their work. Aside from the dropped tray and the stain slowly spreading across the floor, it almost looked like the event had never even happened. 

Damian let out another sigh, this one even longer than the others. 

“Something still bothering you, Damian?” Julian asked, concerned. 

“Nothing,” said Damian. 

Julian gave him a very pointed look. 

This just led to another sigh. “I’m just tired, that’s all. Things have been busy lately.”

_ Even busier than usual, _ he added silently, but didn’t dare say. 

Julian nodded. “They have. Poor Pasha’s been going a mile a minute, hasn’t she?” 

It was Damian’s turn to nod. Julian never called his sister by her more common name, instead using her name from Nevivon, where both she and Julian-- or Ilya, as he was known to his family-- had grown up. 

“Was it like this when you were younger?” Damian asked idly. “Back in Nevivon?” 

“Hard to say,” Julian shrugged. He crouched down to pick up the scattered tea set. “I certainly wasn’t working in a palace back in Nevivon, so...” 

“What’s Nevivon like?” Damian asked. “You never told me.” 

Julian chuckled. “Salty. Both the seas and the people. A far cry from most polite society.” 

“I wouldn’t mind a bit of salt at the moment,” said Damian almost wistfully. 

“You need rest,” Julian declared. “I could go speak to the falconer for you so you can--”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” said Damian, cutting him off. “You already have enough to worry about.”

“You don’t need to ask,” said Julian.

Damian shook his head. “Really, Julian, I’m fine. Besides, it’s my duty to make sure the falconer has everything he needs.” 

“You certainly have a lot of duties,” Julian said pointedly. 

Damian couldn’t manage a civil reply to that. So he just nodded. 

Julian seemed to understand. He set the odd pile of teacups and saucers onto the table and stepped over to the tailors. He whispered something to them that Damian didn’t quite catch. Whatever it was, the tailors quickly scattered. In an instant, Damian and Julian were left completely alone. 

Julian smiled, pleased with himself. He dusted himself off. 

“Now, then.” He shot Damian a grin. “Would you care to tell me what it is that’s _ really _ bothering you?” 

Damian desperately wanted to hold back again. It was his job, as Prince, to be the one helping others. But with Julian looking at him like that, he couldn’t restrain himself any more. 

“_ One _ day, Julian!” he sighed. “Is that too much to ask?” 

“Apparently so,” Julian grumbled. 

“I know I shouldn’t complain,” said Damian quickly. “And I know there are so many things I don’t have to worry about.” 

“Doesn’t mean you have a completely worry-free life,” Julian put in. 

“Exactly,” Damian agreed. “On an average day I barely have time to wake up before my entire life is dictated to me. And now, with all the preparations for meeting the Majestro of Zadith...”

He trailed off. Dread gnawed at his stomach. Even Julian didn’t have a reassuring word or entertaining quip ready for _ that _ particular detail. 

Vesuvia was in trouble. The kingdom was quickly sliding into bankruptcy. On the other hand, across the ocean, the kingdom of Zadith was ever prosperous. Queen Nadia had been sending letter after letter to the rulers of Zadith for nearly a month, now. And she had been discussing those letters with Damian in great detail. 

Asra, the Majestro of Zadith, was due to visit the palace of Vesuvia in less than a week. And then, as Nadia had put it, they would finish all the details, and the two kingdoms would be joined. 

That, of course, meant only one thing. Both Damian and the Majestro were unmarried. For the moment. And nothing joined two kingdoms as easily and perfectly as a royal wedding. 

Julian’s hand hovered forward and then instantly dropped down, as though he were about to reach out for Damian’s shoulder and then thought better of it. 

“The Majestro might be wonderful,” said Julian softly. “You never know.” 

“You’re right,” Damian sighed. “I _ don’t _ know.” 

He’d never seen any of the Majestro’s letters himself. He had no idea what Asra even _ looked _ like. Not to mention knowing virtually nothing about Zadith as a whole. It was largely desert, and not too far from Queen Nadia’s birthplace, Prakra. That was all the information Damian had on hand. 

For a moment, Julian was silent. Damian didn’t quite dare look at him, didn’t dare see what the expression on his tutor’s face might be. He waited for any sort of answer. But when Julian took a breath to reply, he was cut short by another knock on the door. 

“Damian? May I interrupt for a moment?” 

Damian’s heart instantly felt a little lighter. He’d know that voice anywhere. Of course he would: Queen Nadia always sounded refined, even when she was discussing the frustrations of ruling that she only felt comfortable mentioning to Damian. Not exactly the most common mother-son bonding activity, but it certainly worked for the two of them. 

“Of course,” Damian called. “Come in. We were thinking of taking a short break as it was.” 

Julian practically tripped over himself in his rush to open the door. He eased it open with a flourish that was far too over-the-top for anyone else, but was exactly the right kind of over-the-top for Julian. 

Queen Nadia didn’t even seem to notice. She simply swept into the room. If anyone else were there, they all would have immediately snapped to attention. With her long, deep purple hair, her immaculate makeup, and her perfect poise, Nadia would have been an imposing figure even without the gown and jewels. But the perfect outfit certainly didn’t hurt. 

To Damian, though, her arrival was a breath of fresh air.

“I apologize for any disturbance, Damian,” said Nadia smoothly. “The tailors were simply insistent that I come see your new ensemble before they make the final alterations.” 

Damian shot Julian a very pointed look. Julian did his level best to blend in with the wall. 

Nadia either didn’t notice or simply ignored the prince’s antics completely. She was too intent on giving his outfit a full inspection. After a moment, which including having Damian do a full turn for her, she beamed. She placed a delicate hand on her heart in pure joy. 

"Look at you," she murmured. "You look absolutely resplendent, my dear."

Damian looked, for once actually inspecting his reflection instead of staring blankly in the general direction of the mirror. In all honesty, he didn't think he looked much different at all. His eyes were still that odd, almost gold color. His hair was still muddy brown with just a hint of curl, and that one strand of it still managed to flop over his simple golden crown and dangle between his eyes. He still stood tall, the way he had been taught, and the cut of his coat did nothing to hide the fact that his shoulders were still annoyingly narrow. He supposed the new coat looked nice, but so did all the other ones the palace tailors made for him. And with all the pins still in it, he felt rather more like a breathing dress form than a prince. 

But he would never say any of that aloud. He simply didn't have the luxury to.

"It's a wonderful suit," he said instead. "Just my color." 

"It really does bring out your eyes, doesn't it?" said Nadia with a fond smile. "Though perhaps the sleeves could be taken in a bit?" 

It took all of Damian's resolve to bite back an annoyed groan. Not those sleeves _ again! _

Julian couldn’t quite hide a chuckle. “I’ll be sure to tell them, Your Majesty.” 

Damian fired a glare in Julian’s general direction. Julian just laughed. 

“Thank you, Julian.” Nadia spared Julian a quick glance before turning back to Damian. “I _ am _ glad I stopped by. I wanted to personally bring this to you.” 

She held out a small parcel that Damian hadn’t noticed before. He recognized the handwriting on the label, even if he hadn’t met the person who sent it before. Majestro Asra had sent him many similar packages, all with the same signature. 

“The Majestro has sent another goodwill gift,” said Nadia unnecessarily. A soft smile still played across her lips. “He seems very eager to meet you.” 

_ Very eager _ seemed an understatement. Majestro Asra had sent over so many gifts. All of them with strings attached. Well, one string, really. One incredibly long, life-changing string. 

But Damian couldn’t argue with his mother about this. He knew that it was his duty to take care of his people above all else. Besides, Nadia had given him everything. He couldn’t let her down. 

“I’ll open it after the fitting,” said Damian. 

“Of course,” said Nadia. 

She gently set the gift aside on the table where the messy tea tray was still stacked. If she noticed the mess, she made no comment. Damian was almost certain she _ did _ notice the mess, but Damian was such a clutz anyway that a dropped tea tray probably wasn’t much of a surprise. 

Then Nadia gave Damian a searching sort of look. And, to his surprise, she put a gentle hand on his shoulder, right there in front of Julian. 

“I know this can all be a bit overwhelming,” she said gently. “But I _ also _ know how strong and capable you are. Vesuvia’s relations with Zadith couldn’t be in better hands.” 

Damian couldn’t manage a reply. So he just nodded.

Nadia’s smile turned even warmer, reassuring. “You know that if I can ever assist you with anything, you need only ask.” 

Another nod. 

Nadia seemed satisfied with that. Without another word, she swept out of the room. Julian once again scrambled to get the door for her. For one impossible moment, there wasn’t a single pair of eyes on Damian. 

Damian took the opportunity while he had it. He went over to the window and tossed it wide open. Bracing himself on his forearms, he leaned out the window, letting the last traces of the morning mist wash over him. He stared down at the city far below, just barely able to make out the bustling blots of color that must have been the people. _ His _ people. 

For the span of a few heartbeats, Damian allowed himself to imagine what life must have been like down there. He daydreamed about strolling through those streets, perhaps with a basket for groceries in his hand. He pictured a life without a thousand responsibilities looming over his head. Without the worry of being forced into a marriage that he had never asked for, and certainly never wanted. A world where he and Majestro Asra would never have crossed paths, a life where the fate of the kingdom wasn’t settled firmly on his shoulders. 

A part of him was so desperately tempted to leap out the window right then and there. To just go into the streets, or maybe even go to the docks and jump on a ship and leave for somewhere far away, somewhere he didn’t have to be the prince anymore. 

Then Julian cleared his throat. And Damian was brought crashing back to reality. 

Damian bit back the umpteenth sigh of that morning and turned around. The tailors had returned. Damian didn’t need Portia to pop up again to know how insanely late they were going to be if he didn’t get right back to work. 

Technically, Damian knew he could simply order them away. He could cancel the fitting. He could avoid speaking with the falconer. He truly could just run off and leave it all behind. 

But he never would. As much as he may have longed to, he would never abandon his people. Or his family. 

He would do his duty, even if it meant ignoring his heart. 

He stepped back on to the dias, head held high, facing the tailors and their pins as though they really were an army with swords aimed at his chest. 

“I’m ready,” Damian said firmly. “Let’s finish up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, the hardest part of this story so far was finding a gender-neutral term for the ruler of a kingdom. Thank you, internet! 
> 
> This story will update fairly slowly, as it's still a work in progress, but it's a HUGE passion project so I'm happy to keep diving in! 
> 
> Hope you all stick around to see how it turns out!


	2. The Shopkeep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we meet our "pauper!"

Meleia was doing what she always did whenever her workload grew so overwhelming that it bordered on being mind-numbingly dull. She was singing. 

It wasn’t a particularly impressive song. Just a little nonsense tune she’d heard the last time she’d been allowed to go over to the market. And she didn’t fully remember all of the words, since said market trip had been nearly two weeks ago. But she did her best, filling in the blanks with words she made up on her own. The song didn’t necessarily make sense, but at least it took her mind off of all the sewing she had to do... the exact same sewing that she had been doing late into last night. 

And singing had another benefit, besides the fact that Meleia simply loved doing it. It was also a wonderful distraction for Volta, the other seamstress working at Lord Valerius’ Fine Clothing Emporium. The  _ only _ other seamstress working at Lord Valerius’ Fine Clothing Emporium.

Meleia finished her song with both a musical flourish and a flourish of her needle, finishing sewing the sleeves of the gown she was working on at the same instant her song was over. 

Volta let out a little giggle, momentarily putting down her own sewing to applaud. 

“Oh, dear Meleia, your voice is so beautiful!” Volta cooed. 

Meleia flushed. She tried to hide her embarrassment by picking the dress up again and moving it to the dress form. She managed an awkward “Thanks, Volta,” before focusing once more on her work. 

She shuffled the dress over the form, letting the skirt flow down. It spilled out on the floor, meaning it desperately needed to be hemmed. Meleia picked up a pincushion and knelt on the floor, getting right back to work. 

“Someday you will be singing for kings, dear Meleia!” Volta crooned. 

Meleia let out an awkward laugh. “Well, maybe not kings...” 

“But you are so, so kind!” Volta said, almost as though it were a protest. “Dear Meleia deserves to be singing for royalty!” 

Meleia couldn’t hold back a shy sort of smile. She wasn’t exactly used to praise like this. She certainly only seemed to get it from Volta. And even then, it was only when Volta wasn’t forced to completely throw herself into her work to avoid the wrath of their boss. Moments like that didn’t happen anywhere near often enough, in Meleia’s opinion. 

But thankfully, Lord Valerius was still holed up in his room above the shop. For the moment, at least. Which, apparently, had put Volta in a  _ very _ good mood, since she kept heaping on the praise. 

“And your voice, it is truly so, so wonderful!” Volta went on. “It makes everyone very happy!” 

Meleia’s blush deepend. “I don’t know about that...” 

“It does, it does!” Volta insisted. 

It took Meleia a moment to figure out how to respond. To buy herself some time, she scooted herself across the floor to get to a new spot on the skirt. She’d already pinned a good eighth of it. 

“I’m glad it makes  _ you _ happy, Volta,” said Meleia. 

Meleia didn’t need to look up to know that Volta was nodding, probably with a wide grin. Volta tended to giggle when she did that. 

“But I don’t think Lord Valerius would say the same thing,” Meleia went on, disheartened. 

Volta let out a little sigh. Once again, that sound was enough for Meleia to imagine Volta perfectly. Meleia could just imagine Volta’s shoulders slumping, causing her faded, reddish brown hair to fall over her bad eye. Meleia glanced up just in time to see that exact image, with the added bonus-- if she could call it that-- of Volta nervously biting her lip, showing off her scraggly tooth. 

Volta wasn’t allowed to go out into the shop proper to present the clothes or do fittings or anything of the sort. Valerius had her holed up in the back room, doing nothing but stitching. But that hadn’t stopped the more curious (and rude) shoppers from peeking in. And it certainly hadn’t stopped the whispers.  _ Ugly. Odd.  _ Every time Meleia heard those words, it was very difficult for Meleia to resist giving them a few  _ very _ stern words. Or perhaps even slapping them in the face. Meleia’s life was hard, there was no doubt, and she’d certainly never been considered a beauty. But even though Volta was older, Meleia stuck up for her nonetheless. Volta’s life was so much harder than her own... and Meleia already wanted to escape her own life as soon as possible. 

“I’m sorry, Volta,” Meleia sighed. “I didn’t mean to make you upset, I was just...” 

“No, you are right, Meleia,” said Volta sadly. “Lord Valerius is... very loud, sometimes.” 

Meleia giggled. She couldn’t help it. 

“He is,” she agreed. “You know, with a pair of lungs like his, I’m surprised  _ he’s _ never tried to be a singer.” 

Volta tittered with laughter of her own. “Yes, yes, and Valerius knows very much about clothing! Perhaps he would want to wear his dresses on stage?” 

“Only if he gets to wear beige,” Meleia snickered. 

That sent Volta into a fit of giggles. Emboldened, Meleia went on. It felt a little mean to be poking fun at the one who had given them their work, and Meleia knew she was lucky to have a job at  _ all,  _ but she had to admit it helped ease the monotony. And it allowed her to blow off a little steam. Besides, making Volta laugh like that was worth it. Volta didn’t get the chance to laugh, much. 

“And only if he can bring his wine with him,” Meleia laughed. “I can just picture it: Lord Valerius, standing on the Community Theater stage, singing a note so high that it shatters the glass in his hand...” 

Meleia raised her hand with a flourish, imitating the way Lord Valerius always held his wine glasses. Of course, that meant that the pincushion she’d been using flew out of her hand. It bounced against the skirt she’d been pinning and thudded to the floor. It skidded under the dress form, instantly lost in the long train of the skirt. 

Meleia sighed. “Oops...” 

She carefully lifted up the hem, looking for the pincushion. Instead, she found a small, furry paw batting the cushion right back at her. Meleia picked it up set it aside, grinning at the little animal that she’d found... or, more accurately for the moment, had found her. 

“Well, hello, Forge,” Meleia laughed. “When did you get there?” 

Forge shyly poked his head out from under the skirts. The fennec fox’s enormous ears were drawn shyly back towards his head. His cream colored fur was utterly covered in dirt. Meleia hastily scooped him up, half because she simply wanted to hug him and half because she would be in serious trouble if Forge got that gown dirty. 

“What happened to you?” Meleia asked, idly scratching Forge’s chin. “Looks like you got into a little trouble again.” 

If adorably tiny foxes could look indignant, Forge certainly did then. Meleia laughed. 

“I know, I know,” she teased. “You’re not the type to go looking for trouble. But it sure seems to find you anyway.” 

Forge let a little whuff of air out his long nose. Again, he seemed almost indignant. 

“Oh, is little Forge back from his nighttime run?” Volta asked eagerly. 

Meleia got to her feet, which was very difficult since her hands were currently occupied with both Forge and the retrieved pincushion, and turned to beam at Volta. 

“Safe and sound,” she said. “As usual. Right, buddy?” 

She managed to shift her grip so she was holding Forge in one arm, almost like a baby. This left her other hand free to muss Forge’s fur. Forge pressed lovingly against her, reveling in the feeling of being pet. He really acted more like a puppy than a fox, but, in fairness, Meleia had been taking care of him for quite some time now. Forge probably didn’t know any other way to be. 

“Does that mean it is time for snacks?” Volta asked eagerly. “Oh, I am so,  _ so _ hungry...” 

Meleia shot a guilty glance at Volta’s raggedly thin frame. 

“Sorry, Volta,” she sighed. “Not yet. I have to finish this wedding gown, first. Valerius will never let me hear the end of it if I don’t.” 

Volta moaned, disappointed, but she nodded nonetheless. 

“I do not like it when Lord Valerius is loud,” she muttered. 

“Me, neither,” Meleia agreed. “Maybe he wouldn’t yell at us so much if he didn’t give us so much to  _ do... _ ” She sighed as she set Forge down on the now dress-free sewing table and went back to pinning the wedding gown. 

Volta gasped. “Oh, yes, yes, that is why we must always delay the snacks!” 

“Exactly,” Meleia sighed. She straightened up and put on her best imitation of Valerius’ tone. “ _ There shall be no so-called ‘snacking’ until your current project is complete _ . And then the current project gets added to  _ another _ project... I have to hem this dress, and then add the embroidery, and the beads on the neckline... and how’s your cutting going, Volta?” 

“Oh...” Volta sighed. “It is not done. It is not  _ near _ being done.” 

Meleia’s sigh was far more frustrated this time. So much so that it made Forge’s ears twitch. 

“I don’t blame you,” said Meleia. “How can he expect you to cut the fabric for all ten of those gowns on your own? I don’t even  _ want _ to think about sewing them yet...” 

Volta sighed. “No snacks...” 

“I wonder where he keeps them, anyway,” Meleia mused. “Same place he puts all that vintage wine, I guess... I’d say the basement, but we don’t even  _ have _ one. Too close to the river...” 

“Perhaps a secret snack room?” Volta guessed. She sounded like she would very dearly like a secret snack room of her own. 

“Maybe he has another house,” Meleia suggested, a teasing smile finally coming back. “An entire cottage just for his wine.” 

“To sleep in a wine cottage would be very nice...” Volta sighed. 

Meleia couldn’t exactly form a reply to that. She and Volta shared a tiny room above the shop. It was the smallest room in the entire building, just barely big enough for the two of them to set up their mats every night, with the single chest for both of their belongings shoved as tightly into the corner as possible. Meleia thought wistfully of the books that were tucked away in that chest, hidden in her nightclothes. She’d gotten her latest book, a compilation of stories from around the world, as a thank-you gift from a particularly wealthy customer. Even Valerius couldn’t take away a direct present, as much as he may have wanted to. That had been over a month ago, and Meleia had still only had time to get through three of the seventeen stories. 

“I just wish I could wake up without an endless list of things to do,” Meleia admitted. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to spend just one day doing anything we wanted?” 

“Eat many tasty snacks?” Volta suggested. 

“Or take a break and read a story,” said Meleia. 

“To see the city outside, to try the tasty pumpkin bread fresher than fresh!” Volta added. 

Meleia laughed, thinking of the pumpkin bread she tried to bring back for the both of them every time she was asked to do the shopping... and sometimes when she managed to sneak out without being asked. 

“Or even sneak into Valerius’ secret wine cellar,” she giggled. 

That made Volta laugh, too. “And then dear Meleia could sing all of the songs she would want!” 

Meleia looked up at Volta, her smile widening. “I could sing again now, if you want.” 

Volta nodded eagerly. 

Meleia was still grinning as she sang. It was nice to have an appreciative audience. Even Forge liked the song, his tail wagging to the beat. 

But their fun was cut short when Volta gasped. 

“Lord Valerius!” she whispered. 

Meleia abruptly stopped singing. She shot to her feet, shifting so she could hide Forge behind her. Forge quickly took the hint, dashing back under the now-mostly-pinned wedding gown. Volta hastened to look busy herself, scooting closer to Meleia as she moved to cut a new section of fabric. 

Lord Valerius swept down the stairs. He looked the same as ever, with his elegant beige-and-white robes, the gold tassels around his waist, the dark cloak over his shoulders, the long brown braid draped over the shawl. He stood tall, absolutely exuding confidence with his every step... the kind of confidence that made Meleia shrink into herself and remember how horribly drab she was in her old blue shop dress. And he was eyeing both of them with nothing short of disdain. 

“I was unaware that I had opened a new cabaret,” said Valerius coldly. 

Meleia couldn’t resist. She leaned a little closer to Volta and whispered in her ear.

“A cabaret would be a  _ great _ cover-up for an underground wine business,” she teased. 

Volta couldn’t hold back a laugh. 

“Oh, yes, by all means, keep laughing,” Valerius drawled. “Take all the time you need. You’ll already need to work for me for about three more decades before you’ve finally repaid all that you owe me. What’s a few more seconds?” 

Volta whimpered, wringing her hands nervously. 

Fury washed over Meleia. She instantly jumped to Volta’s defense. 

“What are you talking about?” Meleia demanded. “She’s already paid off more than half!” 

Valerius raised a single eyebrow. He glanced down at Meleia from over the top of his wine glass. Of  _ course _ he was holding a wine glass, despite the early hour. 

“Ah, but of course, I had forgotten to add in  _ your _ contribution,” he said coolly. “Yes, by  _ those _ calculations, she  _ should _ be near the end of her goal.” 

Meleia’s head dropped, her defiant glare instantly changing to a wince. He’d said  _ those calculations _ like she had completely made them up. Like she hadn’t been donating half of her own wages towards Volta’s debt for nearly two years. 

“However, both of you have forgotten about  _ interest, _ ” Valerius hissed. “Keeping that in mind, I’d say you’re hardly even a quarter of the way towards your goal.”

Meleia’s head snapped up. “That’s not fair!” 

“And how, exactly, is it  _ not fair _ ?” Valerius demanded. “Volta’s family borrowed quite a bit from me. Isn’t it  _ fair _ that I am compensated for my troubles?” 

“They were buying  _ food, _ ” Meleia protested. “Volta told me! They could barely afford to feed  _ themselves _ . How could they take care of her without help?” 

Valerius scoffed. “They should have thought of  _ that _ before they became poor.” 

Meleia’s hands curled into fists. She quickly tucked them behind her back. 

Valerius must have noticed. His expression soured even more. 

“And  _ you _ ,” he hissed. “You should watch your tone. After all, if it weren’t for  _ me _ , you’d still be nothing but the little orphan girl scraping a living out of sweeping streets and darning socks. The same sad creature I found years ago and rescued out of the good of my heart.” 

Meleia shrank into herself with every word. Her face burned with shame. But it was true. All of it. If Valerius hadn’t found out that she knew how to sew, she probably  _ would _ still be on the streets. And she would have been even more lost and alone than she already was. 

Now, at least, she had a roof over her head. She only had to worry a little bit about getting food. And she had Forge. And Volta. They were the closest things she had to friends. 

Valerius swirled his wine, a satisfied smirk on his lips. 

“Now, then,” he said. “You have two hours before we open our doors for the day. I do hope all of your work is finished by then. In the meantime, I’ll be making sure the shop proper doesn’t look like as much of an utter  _ disaster _ as it did last night.” 

He shot Volta a glare so fierce that it made her yelp. 

Meleia’s fists clenched again. The only thing that had happened last night was a single dropped teapot. Sure, the carpet had gotten a little messy, but Volta had done a wonderful job cleaning it up. And Meleia had been the one who dropped it in the first place. Meleia  _ hated _ how Valerius took everything out on Volta. And how he piled so much work on Meleia herself that it was almost impossible for her to help. 

With one last, contemptuous look, Valerius swept out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him. And Meleia distinctly heard the click of the lock. 

She let out a long, deep sigh and slumped against the work table. 

“You can come out now, Forge,” she called quietly. “He’s gone.” 

Forge poked his nose out from under the wedding gown’s skirts. His ear were flattened nervously again. Meleia picked him up and hugged him close. The fox nuzzled his forehead against her chin. Meleia rubbed her cheek against his fur in return. At the moment, she didn’t know who needed the comfort more: Forge or herself. 

“Meleia?” 

Volta’s voice brought Meleia out of her sad reverie. For the moment. She would have time to be sad later; now she had to worry about making sure Volta actually got the snack time she so desperately needed. Even now, working for Valerius, Volta simply didn’t have enough food. Just another thing that Meleia wished she could fix. 

“I’m alright, Volta,” Meleia assured her. “I think... I think I’ll go open the window, okay? It’ a little stuffy in here.” 

If Volta had any protests, she didn’t voice them. She simply dithered, wringing her hands again, as Meleia crossed the room. The window was tucked away in a far corner. It was hard to get to, especially with all the shop materials scattered across the floor, but at least it was big enough to let in a nice breeze. Meleia tossed the window wide open, holding Forge tightly with one arm. She leaned on the windowsill, bracing herself on her free arm, and let the last traces of the morning mist wash over her. There wasn’t much of a view, to speak of: the shop was right at the edge of a river, practically dipping into the water. But if she followed the river, she could just barely make out the shape of the docks. 

For one blissful moment, no longer than a few heartbeats, Meleia allowed herself to imagine what it must have been like to be one of the many nobles who strolled into the shop. To be someone who could afford to spend gold on a dress or a coat, someone who could visit the docks and actually board one of the ships that stopped there. She imagined a life without an enormous mountain of labor looming over her head. A life without worry for the future, a life where she could make her own choices. There was a whole world out there, beyond those docks. Maybe, just maybe, there was a little corner of it where her songs would be heard, where people would travel from far and wide to listen. A little corner where Volta would have everything she needed to thrive, where Meleia could really make a difference in people’s lives. Where she didn’t feel so alone. 

A part of her wanted so desperately to simply leap out that window and  _ run. _ Maybe she could find work on one of the ships, or even stow away. And then she would sail far away, somewhere she didn’t have to be a nameless shopkeep anymore. 

It wasn’t the first time she’d imagined this. So often she’d dreamed of that perfect future, clung onto that wonderful idea of finally escaping, of saving up enough to actually leave the city and travel somewhere her singing might be appreciated by more than just a fox, her coworker, and the very few people who stopped to listen whenever she got the rare chance to sing on the streets. Most of the time, that dream was all that kept her going. 

“Meleia?” 

Volta’s voice once again brought her crashing back to reality. She blinked furiously, trying to get rid of the tears that were building up. She forced a smile and turned to face Volta. 

“Sorry,” she said, trying to look confident as she strode back to the gown she was sewing. “I was just lost in thought. Did you need help?” 

Volta shook her head. “Oh, no, dear Meleia! I will finish my work!” 

Meleia was probably supposed to give her an encouraging smile. But all she could manage was a nod. 

“Though I  _ do _ have a small, tiny question,” Volta admitted. 

“You know you can ask me anything, Volta,” said Meleia. 

It still took Volta a moment to gather the courage to answer. 

“Dear Meleia, when you are very famous, will you take me with you when you go to many, many places?” Volta asked. 

Meleia shrank into herself again. The life she’d been daydreaming about just moments before seemed to dissipate, fading into nothingness. At the moment, it seemed completely impossible. After all, she was no one. Nothing. Certainly not capable of bartering her way to another kingdom. Not yet. And it was starting to look like that was a dream that would  _ never _ come true. 

But then she got a look at the expression on Volta’s face. And she squared her shoulders. 

She  _ had _ to make it true. For the both of them. And if that meant sticking around and working for Valerius a little longer... well. She would do whatever it took, even if it meant ignoring her heart. 

“Of course, Volta,” she promised. “Someday, we’ll both be out of here.” 

Volta managed a smile. Meleia forced one in return. Then she hefted Forge onto her shoulder, where he settled happily. 

“Right,” said Meleia. “Let’s get back to work. How about another song?” 

She didn’t need Volta’s encouragement. This time, Meleia  _ needed _ to sing. She sang a song of longing, of desperation. She sang her feelings out to the world. That, after all, was what her music was all about, even if the world was little more than a fox and a fellow shopkeep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Meleia! She was my first Arcana Apprentice and I'm very happy to have her here! I was also super happy to have an excuse to add her familiar into a story! Fanfics that take place during the Arcana timeline mean poor Forge is often left out...


	3. How Can I Refuse?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Best enjoyed while imagining Lucio singing the song from the original movie.

“I truly do not see the point in all of this,” a frail looking gray-haired man sighed. “Why dig through all of this dirt if there are no beautiful worms to be found?” 

His companion, a person in a bright red warrior’s uniform, growled with impatience. 

“Would you _ shut up _ about your _ worms? _ ” they demanded. “I will _ crush your skull _if I hear another word, Vlastomil!” 

They slammed their pick into the wall for emphasis, causing a crack far larger than anyone attempting to mine for anything really should. 

Valstomil yelped, nervously wringing his veiny hands. “You wouldn’t. Would you, Vulgora? Not when the Count needs me so...” 

Vulgora scoffed. “The Count needs a _ lackey _. Not you.”

“B-but, he _ chose _ me,” Vlastomil protested, taking a shaky step back. “He promised me an entire estate for myself and my babies if his plan succeeded!” 

Vulgora let out another roar of fury. They whirled on Vlastomil, throwing their pick to the ground. They raised a hand, flashing the sharp, claw-like weapons on the ends of their gauntlets. 

“A promise that will mean nothing if you don’t _ shut up _ and get back to work!” Vulgora snarled. 

Vlastomil took the hint. He hurriedly picked up his own tools and scurried to another section of the cavern, as far away from Vulgora as he could get. 

The two were deep inside the Vesuvian royal gold mines, several feet beyond the end of the tracks for the mine carts. The pair was working to draw out every last little scrap of gold. Not that there was much left to find. The single cart that they had dragged with them held little more than a few flakes.

It didn’t help that the two were very ill-equipped for the job: Vlastomil worked far too carefully, in turns utterly distracted by thoughts of his prized worm collection and bemoaning the hard labor he was forced to endure, while Vulgora would much rather have used their talents in swinging pointy things around to single handedly decimate an entire battalion of soldiers instead of picking at a rock wall. 

Still, Vulgora certainly got the most done, using their impatience to their advantage to get the job done as quickly as possible. The sound of their pickaxe rang through the tunnels, completely drowning out Vlastomil’s far more meager swings. And yet, for a long while, all their efforts came up empty. 

At last, Vulgora found something. A little fleck of gold, no bigger than the tip of their gauntlet-claws, clattered to the ground. A wicked grin stretched across Vulgora’s lips. They picked up the tiny shard, holding it between two claws, and went to toss it into the cart. They stopped there, a snarl quickly replacing their sneer. 

“Vlastomil?” they growled. 

There was a clatter. Vlastomil had dropped his pickaxe. 

Vulgora whirled on him. A chunk of dull brown rock was clenched in their fist. 

“What. Is. _ This? _” they demanded. 

Vlastomil swallowed nervously. “Well, you see, that would be...” 

Vulgora took a slow, threatening step towards him. 

“Is it shiny?” they hissed. 

Vlastomil shook his head. 

“Is it yellow?” 

Vlastomil staggered back as Vulgora advanced on him. “No, not at all, but--”

“Is there _ any _ value to this _ whatsoever? _” Vulgora snapped. 

“Of the monetary kind?” Vlastomil stumbled, his back hitting the wall. “No, but--”

“_ THEN WHY ARE YOU WASTING OUR TIME WITH IT? _” Vulgora roared. 

They hurled the rock at Vlastomil’s head. Vlastomil yelped, just barely managing to duck down before it slammed into his face. The rock burst against the wall, exploding into little more than dust. Neither Vulgora nor Vlastomil noticed that some of that dust had a sparkle to it. Vlastomil was too busy cowering, and Vulgora had already turned their back on the man. 

“The Count wants _ gold, _ Vlastomil!” Vulgora snarled. “And if he doesn’t get what he wants, _ neither _ of _ us _ are going to get what _ we _ want!” 

“I know, I know!” Vlastomil said, voice high in panic. “But I just thought that--”

“_ BUT NOTHING! _ ” Vulgora yelled. “ _ Especially _ if you’re going to whimper about your _ worms _ again!” 

“How can you ask me not to worry?” Vlastomil cried, aghast. “They must be so lonely!” 

Vulgora scowled. “Forget the worms, Vlastomil! Focus on the job.” 

“Such a terribly dull and dirty job...” said Vlastomil. “I need rest...”

“You need a brain,” Vulgora snapped. “Now _ get back to work! _” 

Vlastomil flinched a bit. He took a single step back towards the wall. Before he could even attempt to get his pickaxe again, the unmistakable clatter of the lift down to the depths of the mines cut both of their movements short. 

For a split second, the two froze. Then they sprung into action. Vlastomil dove forward and scrambled into the mine cart. Vulgora doused the lamp that hung on the wall, turning the cavern pitch black, before ducking behind the cart themselves.

Footsteps echoed through the cavern. The light of a new lamp inched closer, casting the mines in eerie shadows. There was the distinct snuffling of dogs. 

And then, suddenly, a figure was looming over the mine cart. He held his lanturn high, gripped in the claws of a prosthetic arm made of pure gold. The light bounced off the military medals on his red sash and cast the figure’s face in shadow, making his sneer look even more threatening. 

“Oh, no need to get up on _ my _ account,” he chuckled. “I’d _ hate _ to interrupt your naptime.” 

Vlastomil hastily scrambled up. “Count Lucio! You’re back! Far earlier than we expected! Did something happen on your journey?”

Lucio sighed impatiently. “Vlastomil. I wasn’t _ on _ a journey. I was at my private estate, waiting for _ you _ to finish your job. And reveling in a bit of sport, of course. Mercedes and Melchior had _ so _ much fun out hunting, didn’t you, boys?” 

He spared enough time to put his lanturn safely on the ground before scratching both his white dogs behind their ears. Both instantly nuzzled up to him, tails wagging violently. 

Vlastomil stared at the Count nervously, completely confused. Vulgora straightened up, towering above both Vlastomil and the cart. 

“You should have told us you were coming,” Vulgora snapped. “We thought you were an intruder! If you hadn’t announced yourself, I would have ripped your head from your shoulders!”

“It’s nice to see that so many years off the battlefield hasn’t dulled your edge, Vulgora,” Lucio laughed. “You’ll need that when my plan is complete. The streets of Vesuvia are simply _ crawling _ with miscreants that need taken care of... and if that’s not enough for you, I’m sure there are a few stray kingdoms that need conquering.” 

Vulgora grinned wickedly. Their teeth seemed dangerously sharp. 

The thought of rewards seemed to perk Vlastomil up. “So we will be given what we were promised soon, yes?” 

Lucio raised a perfectly penciled eyebrow. “Have you held up your end of the bargain?” 

His tone was cold. Both the hounds picked up on it, their pure white fur bristling. They bared their teeth at Vlastomil and Vulgora, growling. 

Vlastomil swallowed nervously. But Vulgora simply pushed past the dogs and carelessly flicked a shard of gold at Lucio. Luico deftly snatched it out of the air with his alchemically-charged golden arm. 

“There,” Vulgora snapped. “That’s the last of it.” 

“All the gold in the royal mines now belongs to you,” said Vlastomil almost proudly. 

Lucio smirked. “_ Finally. _ Well done, gentleman and... whatever title I can call Vulgora. I know you’re not a _ sir _ or a _ lady _ or anything, so...” 

“What about the title you’re going to give me now that our job is done?” said Vulgora. “_ War Master Vulgora _ sounds _ perfect _.” 

“Oh, be patient,” Lucio chided. “After all, I’ve spent more than a decade clawing my way to the top. I’m sure you two can wait a _ few _ more days.” 

“For what?” Vulgora demanded. 

Lucio pouted. “I ask myself that every day. All that time spent fighting and buddying up with the old Count and schmoozing my way to the Queen’s right hand side, and for what? To be _ tossed out _ the _ instant _ she finds that poor little noble boy! One adoption paper, and _ he’s _ the rightful heir! Why should _ he _ be prince when _ I’ve _ done all the hard work?” 

HIs dogs whined in sympathy, leaning against their master’s legs. 

“I don’t care,” said Vulgora bluntly. “You promised us power, Lucio. Pay up.”

Lucio waved their demands away. “I’m getting there. I said ‘be patient’ didn’t I? As soon as my plan comes to fruition, you’ll get everything your bloodthirsty little heart desires.” 

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” said Vulgora, flashing their teeth once more. 

“Then what _ is _ the rest of your plan?” Vlastomil asked. “All you said was get you the gold, and then we would--”

“The gold is only the first step,” said Lucio. “You’ve heard the rumors of Vesuvia going bankrupt, I’m sure.” 

“Of _ course _ it’s going bankrupt!” Vulgora snapped. “We’ve stolen all the gold!” 

Lucio nodded, looking far too pleased with himself. “We have. Finally. And as soon as I get back to the palace, I’m sure the rumors will shift. The great Count Lucio will be so eager to share the wealth he so marvelously collected on his journey. Then no one will be able to stop talking about how wonderful I am! How successful I must be to make so much on a single trip!” 

“The trip that you didn’t actually go on?” Vlastomil asked. 

Lucio scoffed. “_ They _ don’t need to know that. All that matters is that _ I’m _ drowning in wealth, while the kingdom is left on the brink of destruction. And when I swoop in and heroically save the day, our dear little Prince won’t be able to resist my charms any longer. After all, what better husband could a prince choose than the man who single-handedly saved his entire kingdom?” 

He spread his arms with a flourish, letting his fur-lined cape snap out behind him. 

“I thought you hated the Prince,” said Vlastomil. 

“I thought the Prince hated _ you _,” said Vulgora. 

“Pssh,” Lucio waved their protests off again. “Of _ course _ Damian loves me. _ Everyone _ loves me.” 

Vlastomil and Vulgora exchanged a look, but said nothing. 

“He’s playing hard to get, that’s all,” said Lucio. “Rather attractive, isn’t it?”

Vulgora scowled impatiently. Lucio went on, oblivious. 

“He’ll show his true feelings eventually,” said Lucio. “And no matter how long it takes, it’ll be worth it. The crown, the gorgeous capes, the unmatchable palace views... how could I refuse such a glorious opportunity? 

“You’re forgetting something, Count,” Vulgora cut in before Lucio could go on even longer. 

“_ Prince _ Count,” Lucio snapped. 

“No,” said Vulgora bluntly. “Not with _ that _ plan.”

“And why not?” Lucio demanded. 

“Because the Prince is already getting married,” said Vulgora. 

Lucio’s eyes went wide as dinner plates. “He’s _ what? _” 

“Oh, that’s right,” Vlastomil mused. “I _ did _ hear something about that... political ties with Majestro Asra of Zadith, wasn’t it?” 

“He’s marrying some _ Majestro _ ?” Lucio spat. “How does anyone even know what that _ is? _” 

Vulgora huffed. “King, Queen, Majestro... all the same.” 

“Are you saying that the prince is marrying some _ foreign royal _?” Lucio cried, aghast. “Who decided this?” 

“Queen Nadia’s the one making the arrangements,” said Vlastomil nervously. 

“Without _ me? _” Lucio cried. “Who does she think she is?” 

“The Queen,” said Vulgora dryly. 

“Vulgora _ does _ have a point,” said Vlastomil. “She _ is _ the Queen. With the crown and the fancy chair and the miles and miles of gardens just perfect for my beautiful worms to dig to their heart’s content and the--” 

“_ Shut up! _” 

Lucio’s hand snapped around Vlastomil’s throat. Thankfully it wasn’t the golden one: Vlastomil would likely have had his neck snapped in half if it had been. 

“I _ won’t _ let her get away with this!” Lucio snarled. “She has no right to make such an important decision without her greatest advisor and ally by her side! And I’m not about to let some pathetic little Majestro stride in and take away _ my _ chance at being King!”

Vulgora cracked his knuckles. “I could take care of that for you.” 

For a moment, Lucio looked tempted. But then he shook his head, automatically releasing Vlastomil as he started pacing, trying to think of another solution. 

“No, no, Noddy wouldn’t be too happy about the murder of a foreign dignitary,” Lucio muttered, “espeically not one right outside her own palace. “And that might lead to a full-scale war, which we would _ not _ be prepared for,” he added pointedly before Vulgora could say that they would _ love _ a full scale war. “No, what we need is some way to make sure that this Majestro whatever-their-name-is doesn’t take this little bargain. Ah, but Damian’s charms _ are _ irresistible. Better to find some way that the Majestro will never even _ meet _ the Prince in the first place...” 

He froze. His eyes lit up, an idea swiftly forming in his mind. 

“Yes... that _ is _ the key, isn’t it?” He sneered hands on his hips in triumph. 

Vulgora and Vlastomil exchanged another glance, this one of scorn (from Vulgora) and utter confusion (from Vlastomil). Lucio was too busy plotting to notice. 

“This little arrangement is no problem at all,” said Lucio. “Dear Noddy just made a little oopsie. She does tend to forget how _ much _ I do for this kingdom.” 

Vulgora chuckled aloud at that. Lucio whirled on them. His dogs started growling again, hackles raised. 

“Something funny?” he pouted. 

“When _ we _ have obviously been doing most of the work?” Vulgora shot back. 

Lucio simply smirked. “Only because you’re my most trusted companions. And by the way... your work isn’t over yet.” 

Vlastomil swallowed nervously. “You’re making us do something _ else _ now?” 

Lucio’s eyes flashed. “I need you two to make sure the Prince isn’t there to meet this... _ Majestro _.” 

“What do you mean?” asked Vlastomil. 

“It would certainly be tragic if the Prince were to, say, _ disappear _ when the Majestro arrives,” said Lucio with a sneer. 

“Permanently?” Vulgora asked eagerly.

Lucio shook his head. “Just long enough for the Majestro to give up on him and turn tail. Then, I’ll just so happen to find Damian and bring him home for a tearful reunion with his doting mother. There’s no way _ either _ of them could refuse if I propose to the Prince after _ that! _” 

Vulgora chuckled, sneering. Even Vlastomil looked a little more heartened. The dogs picked up on the shift in mood, their tails wagging. 

“The wedding will be _ glorious, _ of course,” Lucio went on, grinning. “Only the best for the soon-to-be King of Vesuvia! As soon as the ceremony’s over, I will finally rise and claim the throne that is rightfully mine! At long last, _ I’ll _ be the one wearing the crown... even that foolish _ Damian _ won’t be able to stop me from getting what I deserve any longer. He’ll be right by my side, where he belongs... and I can always give him all of the boring paperwork. He’s clever, he can deal with all _ that. _” 

Melchior, the larger of the two dogs, huffed his approval. Luico gave him an affectionate scratch. 

“And _ then _ we’ll get what _ we _ want?” Vulgora cut in. 

Lucio laughed. “Of course! The perks that come with being king will come in handy for you, too, won’t they?” 

He turned to Vulgora, fist raised dramatically. 

“As soon as I am king, you shall command my armies!” he declared. “And _ you _...” He pointed dramatically at Vlastomil. “You will get your private manor, with the most vast gardens Vesuvia has ever seen!” 

Vlastomil nearly clapped his hands together with glee. Vulgora clenched their own fists eagerly. The dogs howled their approval. 

Lucio spread his arms wide as though to encompass the entire room.

“My friends!” he cried. “We have _ so _ much to do! _ You _ have to find a way to lure the prince away from the palace. And _ I _ have to call for the white roses, commission an entirely new suit, order the finest wine out from our storage... the _ red _ wine, of course. I can’t have any of Noddy’s disgusting Golden Goose at _ my _ wedding! Oh, and I _ must _ make sure that ox tartare is on the menu! Ah, there are so many things involved in wedding planning, isn’t there?”

“Oh, yes,” Vlastomil agreed. “So many intricate details. Or so I’ve heard. I never held one myself, though I did officiate a few...” 

“Right!” Lucio somehow managed to snap his fingers despite his white gloves. “Vlastomil, you’ll officiate mine, of course?” 

“I will?” Vlastomil blinked. “Oh, my worm-- my _ word, _ this is simply another unexpected addition to our workload, isn’t it?” 

“I’m sure you can handle it,” said Lucio flippantly. He picked up his lanturn and turned to leave. The dogs were quick to walk right at his heels. 

Vulgora and Vlastomil exchanged another look. This time, their eager greed outshone any of their doubts. 

Lucio stopped just before he slipped out of the cavern. He turned to face his two companions once again, his smile just as greedy as theirs. 

“Raise a cheer, my wonderful court!” he declared. “The reign of King Lucio is upon us!” 

He let out a triumphant laugh. The dogs howled. And Lucio swept off, disappearing into the mines with a flash of his cape. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (please tell me if any of this is awkward I have not written for Vulgora and Vlastomil before...)


	4. Collison Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which animal shenanigans ensue.

It was late in the afternoon. Damian hadn’t returned from his trip to... some kind of society? Oswald quite honestly didn’t remember. Naturally, being a bat, he would never be able to talk to Damian about it. It was so frustrating, not being able to speak human. He understood humans perfectly well, of course. Most animals did. But making the sounds they made? That was another matter entirely. 

Either way, Oswald wasn’t particularly bothered by the fact that _ his _ human was still away. Damian was always busy, but he always had time for Oswald. And him being away meant that, for the moment, Oswald had the entire castle to himself. 

It was time to find the perfect place to perch. 

Well, the _ second- _ most perfect place to perch. The absolute perfect place to perch was his human’s shoulder. He got the most treats that way, and Damian was nice and warm. But without Damian there, he had the chance to perch places he probably wasn’t supposed to perch. Including the big chair that the Queen always sat in. Or maybe the slightly smaller chair that Damian used. Oswald was _ never _ allowed to go on that one. 

So that was exactly what he did. 

He spent a few minutes precariously balanced on the very top of the chair’s ornate wooden back. Then he decided that was a little bit _ too _ precarious for him, and he would much rather be hanging upside-down. So he flapped down and clung to the edge of the chair’s arms. He let out a happy little squeak. This was far more comfortable. 

His comfort was instantly ruined by a familiar snarl. If bats could roll their eyes, Oswald would have. That ungrateful hound _ insisted _ on being so noisy whenever he was about to attack. It was just undignified. 

Though it did give Oswald a distinct advantage. It was all too easy for Oswald to shoot into the air, fluttering away just as Melchior’s teeth snapped together at the spot Oswald had just been dangling. 

Oswald landed at the top of the chair again. 

_ Hello, Melchior, _ he chirped. _ I thought you were gone for good this time. _

Melchior growled. _ You wish, pipsqueak. _

Once again, Oswald dearly wished he could roll his eyes. 

_ Is your Master home already? _ He asked instead. _ I thought I would smell him by now _. 

Melchior’s growl turned lower, more dangerous. _ Laugh all you want. You won’t get to enjoy that seat much longer. _

The hound lunged, trying to scramble to the seat of the chair. Oswald simply flapped away, sitting down on the slightly taller chair that the Queen used. 

_ Why’s that? _ Oswald asked innocently. 

Melchior lurched away from the chair and prowled across the dias, glaring up at the bat. 

_ Soon this will all belong to my master, _ Melchior snarled. _ Which means it will belong to ME. _

He slammed against the chair, sending it wobbling. Oswald was thrown off. He flapped in the air for a moment before catching himself. Oswald zoomed off, zipping down the palace halls. 

  
  


***

Damian was taking the carriage ride back from the Vesuvian Historical Society gathering as a chance to get a small semblance of rest. At any rate, he was leaning back with his eyes closed, his head practically dangling off his seat. The rumble of the carriage was soothing, even if the road wasn’t exactly the smoothest. At the very least, it meant they were actually _ going _ somewhere, even if it was back home to the palace. 

Damian let out a slight sigh as he remembered all the work he would have to do the moment he actually reached the palace. He’d missed lunch, instead being forced to stay for the rest of the Historical Society Luncheon after his speech, which meant he wouldn’t even get _ that _ time to himself. He still had to talk to the falconer. And he wouldn’t have been surprised if there were another fitting he would have to go to, with the threat of the Majestro’s arrival hanging over his head. And if his time with the Historical Society had told him anything, it was how far behind he was in his own studies regarding history... 

“Your Highness.” 

One of the guards jerked Damian out of his thoughts. He bolted upright. 

“Yes?” he blurted out. “What is it?” 

The guard-- whom Damian belatedly recognized as Ludovico, one of Queen Nadia’s favorites-- didn’t seem to notice any outburst. Either that, or Ludovico was very well trained to ignore the moments when his prince was a complete idiot. Regardless, he made no mention of it. 

“We have arrived at the gates,” Ludovico announced. 

Damian cleared his throat. “Right. Of course.” 

The carriage rumbled to a stop in the main courtyard, almost as though Damian were a visitor instead of the prince. Damian much preferred to stop off closer to the stables, where there wouldn’t be so much of a scene. But, sure enough, the carriage was instantly met by half a dozen servants. They swarmed around, tending to the horses and making sure everything was ready for the prince’s arrival. Naturally. 

Damian didn’t even get to open the door for himself. It was opened for him from the outside, long before Damian had even managed to get to his feet. This, of course, made him very unwilling to actually get up. The last thing he wanted at that moment was to be treated like a child. Or like... well, like a prince. 

But he stood anyway, hoping he came off more as tired than rude when his gaze remained firmly on his shoes. He didn’t have to look up, anyway, not even to catch the hand that was offered to him as he stepped down from the carriage. 

“Oof, did the speech go _ that _ badly?” said a wonderfully familiar voice. 

Damian’s head snapped up. Julian was there, escorting him out of the carriage with the usual rakish smile. 

Damian couldn’t help but smile back. “Not the speech so much as the luncheon afterwards. You wouldn’t believe how incredibly boring the Historical Society can manage to make history sound.” 

“That’s because they don’t focus on the right details,” Julian laughed. 

“True,” said Damian in a mock serious tone. “I don’t think they so much as mentioned a single pirate battle.” 

“You must not have been discussing the history of Nevivon, then,” Julian replied easily. “Nothing _ but _ pirate battles, there.” 

Damian grinned. “Seems Nevivon is far more exciting than--”

His quip was interrupted by a familiar screeching sound... and the braying of a hound that was also, sadly, far too familiar to Damian. 

“Oh, no...” Damian sighed. 

That was all he had time to say before Oswald zipped into the courtyard with one of Count Lucio’s hounds in hot pursuit. 

Damian recognized the hound as the larger Melchior about half a second before the dog barreled into him. Since Damian hadn’t even stepped onto the ground yet, it was a far bigger impact than it should have been. He tried to avoid plummeting by twisting around. Which, of course, only meant he did a sort of awkward twirl before tumbling backwards. 

“Watch out!” a voice shouted. 

Damian only realized it was Julian’s voice when he toppled into him. Juilan was quick to snap his arms around the prince, steadying him. 

“Thanks,” Damian grunted. He quickly tried to straighten up, trying to hide-- and forcing himself to ignore--the heat that was creeping into his cheeks. 

“Any time,” said Julian. “Ah, allow me...” 

He helped get Damian properly back on his feet... and then insisted on dusting off the prince’s jacket. Damian gently shooed him away and turned his attention back to the pair of animals that were now attempting to completely upend the carriage. Or at least _ one _ of them was. Oswald was simply trying to avoid Melchior’s jaws. 

“Oswald!” Damian cried. “Over here!” 

The bat instantly responded, flapping dangerously close to Melchior’s nose as he sped out of the carriage. Oswald flew at Damian so fast that he collided with the prince’s chest. Damian almost fell over again. He was sure Julian was ready to catch him, but Damian managed to steady himself this time. 

Which was a good thing, because Melchior wasn’t distracted for long. The fur on his back bristled as he stalked towards Oswald, growling ferociously. 

Damian stood his ground. He glared at the hound, clutching Oswald protectively in one hand and imperiously gesturing towards Melchior with the other. 

“Melchior!” he snapped. “_ Sit! _” 

The dog screeched to a halt. He stared at Damian almost incredulously, as though demanding to know who dared give him commands... besides his master, of course. Damian knew full well that the dogs always listened to Count Lucio without hesitation. 

But Damian had also seen Lucio handle them often enough to know some of the more common commands. 

“_ Sit, _” Damian repeated firmly. 

Melchior whined. But he sat. 

Damian pointed at the castle proper with all the ferocity he could muster. 

“Go home!” he commanded. “Now!” 

Melchior whined again. Damian just stared back at him, unblinking, still pointing towards the castle. 

Eventually, Melchior’s head dropped down. His tail tucked between his legs. And he slunk off, completely chastened. 

Damian let out a sigh of relief. He gave Oswald a comforting pat. 

“I didn’t think Count Lucio would be back this early,” Damian said dryly. 

“He arrived only a few minutes ago,” said Julian, his tone perfectly casual. It was as though the Count’s dog had never been there at all. 

“Then I suppose I don’t have any other fittings to attend today,” said Damian, only half-joking. 

Julian chuckled. “No, I think the Count has the fitting room booked for the night.” 

Damian snorted. No surprise there at all. 

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Julian chuckled. 

“You know, I’ll never understand what mother sees in him,” said Damian. He was far too exhausted by his day to care that he was being rude. Besides, most of the others had already scattered, leaving only the guards. And Damian trusted the guards to keep these conversations quiet. 

“He does have a rather... _ extreme _ personality,” said Julian. “But you must admit, his military record is astounding. And his hounds are very well-trained. Well, they listen to _ him _, anyway...” 

Damian frowned, his lips pressed together in a tight line. He didn’t care about military records in the least. And he couldn’t exactly call the hounds well-trained if they were constantly chasing Oswald. But the Count didn’t really seem to want to do any real harm... and if the Queen trusted him, then Damian felt he should do the same. 

That didn’t mean he had to _ like _ Lucio. 

“Well,” said Julian quickly, “if you want to avoid him, it shouldn’t be too hard considering the fitting room is downstairs,” 

“I’ll head over to the gardens, then,” said Damian. He forced himself to sound calm. “The falconer must have been waiting for me for some time now...” 

Julian shot him a grin. “No need. I’ve already talked to him.” 

Damian whirled around, eyes wide. “You have?” 

Julian nodded, unabashed. “The bat problem was rather simple, as it turned out. Nothing for you to worry about.” 

“Julian, it’s my _ job _ to worry about it,” said Damian. 

“And it’s my job to worry about _ you, _” Julian fired back. 

Damian tried to form a protest. He couldn’t. He allowed himself a small grumble instead.

“You have enough to take care of,” said Julian softly. “Let me take some of it on.”

“Because it’s your job?” Damian said bitterly. 

Julian shook his head. He looked almost hurt. “Because I don’t want to see you collapsing from overwork.” 

Once again, Damian was completely incapable of forming a response. 

“You _ did _ say you wanted a little more time to work on your alchemy project, didn’t you?” said Julian. “Or you could... take a well-earned rest. Or practice some music. I could get my vielle...” 

Damian shook his head. “I’m sure you have other things you need to do. You don’t need to waste any more of your time on me.” 

“It’s not a waste,” Julian said instantly. 

“But _ you’re _ busy, too,” Damian insisted. “Really, I appreciate the thought, but you shouldn’t strain yourself for me.” 

Julian managed a smile. It was far more reserved than usual. 

“I’m happy to take on all that I can,” he said. 

Damian bit back another sigh. There would simply be no getting through to Julian when he was like this. 

“Well.” Damian cleared his throat. “You _ did _ give me a bit more time for my alchemy work, and I appreciate that. I’ll be in my room if anyone needs me.” 

Julian bowed. “Of course. If anything comes up, I’ll find you right away.” 

Damian highly doubted that would be the case. Julian was far more likely to try to take matters into his own hands than go and get help. Whether or not that method would actually _ work _ was up for debate. But at this point, Damian would take what he could get, even if that meant cleaning up Julian’s messes afterwords. He had to admit that it would be a relief to find a mess he could actually clean up. 

So Damian simply nodded and hurried up to his room, allowing Oswald to flutter behind him. 

Damian had hardly closed his door before he dove right back into his work. The fastest-growing crystal wasn’t going to discover itself... or make itself, as the case may have been. 

He had no idea how much time had passed. He just kept trying different things, combining different ingredients in as many ways as he could think of. He scratched each idea off a long list, a list that he continued to add to only to cross things right back out again. With each failure, he got a little more frustrated. He consoled himself with the fact that he hadn’t made any unidentifiable goo this time... but he hadn’t exactly managed to do anything else, either. 

He was in the middle of about the fifth combination when Oswald got bored. Or the bat fully woke up. Either way, Oswald decided it would be a wonderful idea to settle down on Damian’s desk. Of course, it was notoriously hard for Oswald to get _ any _ purchase on the smooth wood. So instead of landing, he completely crashed. All of Damian’s materials scattered onto the floor... including the ones he _ hadn’t _ been using. Damian was privately grateful that he had a carpet: if not, several of the jars would have completely shattered. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about... 

“Oswald!” Damian groaned. 

Oswald tucked his head under his wings, embarrassed. 

Damian sighed. “I know, I know. You didn’t mean it. And I can’t stay mad at you.” 

Oswald peeked up at Damian, poking his nose out of his wing-cocoon. 

Damian chuckled. “Alright, I get it. But I _ do _ have to clean everything up now.” 

He didn’t waste any more time. He eased out of his chair and crouched under his desk to try to remedy the mess. Oswald tried to help, which was more hilarious than actually useful since it was nearly impossible for him to pick anything up in his tiny claws, but Damian appreciated the effort.

The worst part of the cleanup was decidedly the spilled bottle of snow-silver, a strange, silvery liquid only found in natural pools deep in the forests of the distant kingdom of Dhakar. At least, Damian _ thought _ it was called snow-silver. The Dhakarian name for it sort of sounded like a mash up of their words for _ silver _ and _ snow, _so that was as close of a name as Damian could get. Admittedly, he couldn’t be sure, since his Dhakarian wasn’t the best. Just another thing to add to his endless workload... 

He picked up the bottle, first, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw it wasn’t entirely empty. He carefully put the lid back on and set it aside, making sure it was out of Oswald’s crash range. He had to try to clean the rest up by hand. As thankful as he had been for his rug earlier, he was glad that it didn’t reach under his desk. That made cleanup much easier, though the corners were still awkward to get to. 

As he mopped up the puddle of snow-silver, he noticed that one of his crystals had fallen directly into the goop. Damian bit back a word that no prince should use and hastily picked the crystal up. He paused, confused. Was it his imagination, or was the crystal bigger than it had been before? 

He shook the thought off and went to wipe the snow-silver off of it... only to instantly stop again. He’d automatically used the same rag he had used to clean up the puddle, so some of the snow-silver got rubbed deeper into the crystal. And, right before his eyes, the crystal _ grew _. 

Damian’s eyes widened. Carefully, he picked up his bottle of snow-silver and carefully tipped a single drop of it the crystal. Sure enough, it grew again. 

Damian gasped. “The crystal is reacting to the snow-silver,” he breathed, astounded. “It’s hardly even a millimeter at a time, but... Oswald, look!” 

He scrambled out from under his desk and pulled himself half-up, practically dangling from his chair. Oswald perched on the arms of the chair, his tiny head cocked in interest. 

“You’re quite the budding little scientist, aren’t you?” Damian laughed. “I never would have thought to use the snow-silver like _ this _!” 

Oswald clearly didn’t understand a word Damian had said, but he must have picked up on the prince’s enthusiasm. Oswald took to the air again, circling triumphantly. 

Damian stood up, watching his progress. Eagerly, he flicked a couple more grains of the Dhakharian mineral, and watched the same result. Damian couldn’t hold back a laugh, staring giddly at their discovery. 

“This is  _ amazing _ !” Damian cried. “Oswald, I can’t believe we just--”

He was interrupted by a knock on the door. A wonderfully familiar knock. He whirled around and rushed to open the door, ending up tripping over his rug on the way there. He caught himself, only to pause long enough to put both crystal and snow-silver on his desk. That done, he rushed to the door and yanked it open. Julian was standing there, looking very surprised. 

“Damian, wha--?”

“Julian!” Damian cried. “Perfect timing-- you  _ have _ to come look at this!” 

He grabbed his tutor’s hand and dragged him into the room. He showed off the scene at his desk, unable to hide his grin. 

Julian stared at it in confusion. “Is that...?” 

“The minerals from Dhakhar,” Damian confirmed. “Julian, it’s  _ amazing. _ Just look!” 

With a flourish that almost rivaled Julian’s showmanship, Damian revealed the reaction he and Oswald had discovered. Oswald must have wanted to show off, too, since he flew dramatic circles around Damian, trilling joyfully all the while. 

Julian, on the other hand, didn’t look nearly as happy. He glanced at the crystal for a moment before tracking Oswald’s movements. 

“That’s, ah... that’s impressive,” Julian managed. 

Damian sagged a bit, but he tried not to let Julian’s disinterest dampen his spirits. Maybe Julian didn’t fully understand how wonderful this discovery was. Or, more likely, he was a little distracted. So Damian tried to bring his tutor back on track. 

“Just think of what this _ means _ ,” said Damian. “We’re one step closer, Julian! I’ve  _ never _ seen a crystal grow at this rate... well, I’ve never actually  _ seen _ a crystal grow in person, but no one has ever recorded anything like this, either! I wonder if it works for all types of crystal, or just the one I tried. Well, Oswald tried it, really. But it’s an incredible discovery, isn’t it?” 

“It certainly is, Your Highness,” said Julian. 

Damian’s excitement instantly vanished. Julian’s usual bravado was completely gone. He sounded almost despondent. And more to the point... 

“Your Highness?” Damian repeated. “You  _ never _ call me that.”

Julian cleared his throat. “Ah, yes, well... first time for everything, I suppose.” 

“Why the sudden formality?” Damian asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Well, no,” said Julian. He cleared his throat again. “Not exactly  _ wrong _ per se...” 

Damian crossed his arms. He raised an eyebrow, doing his best imitation of the Queen’s icy stare. 

Julian instantly folded. “I have a message for you. Her Majesty wanted me to tell you that Majestro Asra has sent his Ambassador to make sure that everything is prepared for the Majestro’s arrival. The Ambassador should be arriving tonight.” 

Damian sank into his chair. 

“Tonight?” he said weakly. 

Julian nodded, his expression grim. “The Majestro himself might even be here by tomorrow morning.” 

Damian didn’t reply. He  _ couldn’t _ . He felt like all the wind had been knocked out of him. 

He’d known that he would have to face this ordeal soon. But he hadn’t realized how soon it would really be. 

Oswald picked up on the gloom that had settled over the prince. He fluttered down, settling on Damian’s shoulder. Damian absently started petting the bat’s head, still staring at nothing. 

Julian made an odd move, taking a half step towards Damian only to stagger instantly back. 

“Come now, Damian,” Julian said gently. “You look like I’ve just ordered you to the gallows.” 

He chuckled at his own joke. Damian didn’t feel much like laughing. 

Julian sighed. “It’s not all bad. A wedding isn’t the end of the world. Right?” 

Damian slumped even further in his chair, burying his head in his hands. 

Julian instantly lurched towards him. “Damian, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Feeling ill?” 

“No...” Damian leaned back a bit, flopping against the back of his chair. “It’s not that.” 

“So... what is it, then?” Julian asked, still looking concerned. 

Damian ran a hand through his hair. “It’s... now, don’t get me wrong, I  _ know _ that marrying the Majestro is the right thing to do. But I’d always thought...” 

His voice died out. He couldn’t finish his sentence. So he changed track a bit. 

“What do you think the Majestro will be like?” he asked. His tone was dull, almost dead. 

Julian straightened up, fussing with his servant’s garb. 

“Well.” He cleared his throat again. “I’m sure he’ll be... suitable.” 

Damian cracked an eye open. “ _ Suitable? _ ” 

“I hear he’s an animal person,” Julian went on. “He must be. Apparently, his Ambassador has a rather long list of demands for the Majestro’s pet snake. There’s a guard coming with him, too... apparently the guard as a well-trained wolf he travels with.” 

“Sounds like he cares for some very...  _ exotic _ animals,” said Damian. 

“Just like Her Majesty.” Julian chuckled. “Remember the cheetah?” 

Damian let out a short, sharp laugh. “I don’t think  _ anyone _ in the palace is going to forget the cheetah.” 

Julian smiled at him, looking far more at ease than he had since he came into the room. 

Damian managed a smile back. But his smile quickly faded. Liking animals was nice, but Count Lucio was fond of animals as well, so that didn’t necessarily mean anything for one’s character. And Damian still had no idea how the Majestro might feel about alchemy or the idea of going on trips outside the kingdom. And he didn’t have the slightest clue about Zadith itself, or how he was supposed to take care of  _ two _ kingdoms at once, or even if he  _ had _ to take care of them both or if the Majestro would still rule Zadith while Damian took care of Vesuvia or...

“Damian?” Julian said softly. 

“It’s nothing,” said Damian quickly, despite the fact that his thoughts kept spiraling down. He didn’t even notice when Oswald nuzzled his cheek. 

Julian wasn’t about to take  _ nothing _ for an answer. “I’m sure, once you get to know him, things won’t seem all that bad. He could be very... nice.” 

Damain shrugged. “It’s possible. He could be nice... or even perfectly incredible. He could be the kind of person who would allow a prince to travel more, or go off on adventures...” 

“Or do alchemy experiments in the library?” Julian chuckled. 

“Well, yes, that,” Damian admitted. “Or he could be a stickler for the rules, and Zadith could have a thousand strict traditions that I’ll have to memorize and perform perfectly if I have any hope of maintaining the relationship between kingdoms.” 

“Well, that  _ is _ possible,” said Julian, sounding reluctant. “Doubtful, but...” 

“But possible,” Damian finished for him. “I’d much rather marry...” he quickly cut himself off and tried to change track before he openly admitted something he might regret later. “Marry someone who would be willing to attempt a few of my crazy ideas.” 

Julian watched him for a moment, a thousand different emotions dancing behind his eyes. Then Julian seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. 

“Damian?” he called softly. 

Damian looked up. 

And Julian flashed his signature smirk. It was the look that almost guaranteed trouble. 

“You’ll want to change into something more casual,” Julian declared. 

Damian blinked. “What?” 

“And you’re going to need your coat,” Julian added. 

With that utterly confusing remark, he swept out of the room, already shouting for a carriage. 

Damian lurched to his feet, accidentally dislodging Oswald from his shoulder. Oswald flapped towards the ceiling indignantly. Damian hardly saw him. He was too busy trying to chase down his tutor. 

“Wait!” he called. “What are you talking about? Why do I need my coat?  _ Julian! _ ” 

But Julian was already far down the hall, racing towards the stables. Damian heaved a sigh, more of frustration this time. Then he chased after him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate chapter summary: In which the author shows how little she actually knows about alchemy. Thank heavens for the internet and my friend who proofread this!


	5. Ambassador

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we finally meet Asra and Muriel and the shenanigans that come with them.

An ornate carriage rumbled into the main courtyard of the Vesuvian Palace. Though the carriage was particularly large, bigger than any in Vesuvia, there were only two occupants. One was both tall and broad, which likely made the reason for the carriage’s size clear. However, despite his impressive muscles, he was hunched over nervously, his dark, choppy hair falling in front of his eyes. 

The other figure seemed almost his exact opposite. He was clearly smaller, and rather thin. His pure white curls constantly threatened to escape his wide-brimmed hat. While the dark-haired man seemed to be trying to disappear into the corner, this figure was eagerly pressed against the window, drinking in the sights. 

“I don’t like this,” said the dark-haired man. 

The white-haired one let out a laugh. “You don’t like traveling at all, Muriel.” 

The hulking figure, Muriel, simply tried to shrink into himself further. 

“I don’t mean the traveling,” he grumbled. 

His companion sank a bit, his expression becoming overcast. He pulled back from the window, giving Muriel a searching sort of look. 

“No,” he said slowly, “this can’t be the most comfortable for you, can it?” 

Muriel didn’t reply. Which was all the answer his friend needed. 

“You know you didn’t have to come with me,” he said gently. “I know meeting new people and going outside the kingdom aren’t exactly your style. If you really didn’t want to...” 

Muriel shook his head. “Not that, either.” 

His friend’s eyes widened. “Really? Then what’s wrong?” 

“You shouldn’t be doing this, Asra,” Muriel grumbled. “You should be honest with them.” 

The white-haired Asra smiled, eyes alight with laughter. “I’m not being dishonest. There wasn’t a single lie in any of the letters I sent, you know.” 

Muriel shook his head. “Aside from your own title.” 

Asra shrugged. “I just didn’t mention my title, that’s all.” 

“You lied to them,” said Muriel. 

“Keeping a secret is hardly the same thing as lying,” Asra argued lightly. 

Muriel was silent. It was very clear that he thought differently, at least under the circumstances. 

“I’m sure it will be fine,” said Asra. “And, technically, you _ could _ consider me a sort of ambassador. I’m visiting Vesuvia on behalf of my own kingdom. Isn’t that what ambassadors do?” 

Muriel huffed. “Not the same.” 

Asra tilted his head. “Why not?” 

Muriel mumbled something so quietly that his friend couldn’t really catch it. But he _ did _ hear something about not being “able to protect you.” 

Asra gave his friend a gentle pat on the shoulder. 

“You don’t need to protect me,” he assured him. 

“You don’t know what could happen,” said Muriel. “Something could go wrong.” 

“Which is exactly _ why _ we aren’t announcing who I am yet,” said Asra pointedly. “If anything, it should keep me safer. If that’s what you’re really worried about.” 

Muriel looked away, somehow managing to curl in on himself further. The message was clear: Asra’s safety was far from the only thing he was worried about. 

Asra tried to lighten the mood. 

“Well, if things _ do _ go wrong, I doubt Queen Nadia is the type to throw anyone in the dungeon,” said Asra. “And if she is... I’ve never seen a set of bars you can’t handle.” 

He chuckled at his own joke. Muriel huffed again, not nearly as appreciative.

“Sorry,” said Asra quickly. “What I’m trying to say is that I trust you. I don’t want you to force yourself to do anything that you’ll regret.” 

Muriel gave a sort of halfhearted shrug, as though to say _ well, I’m here anyway. _

Asra’s smile widened. “I can’t thank you enough, Muriel.” 

Muriel sighed. “Don’t thank me yet.” 

“It’s alright,” Asra assured him. “Everything will be fine. I promise. That’s why we’re doing this, after all. To make sure.” 

Muriel huffed. “Make sure of what?” 

Asra shrugged. “Just to make sure.” 

That, of course, cleared nothing up, but he wasn’t one to be completely direct on the best of days, so Muriel simply let it go. 

“You told them about Inanna?” Muriel asked instead. 

He glanced down at the wolf that lay snugly by his feet. The wolf, Inanna, looked up at the sound of her name. She was already on high alert. Asra smiled fondly at her. 

“Of course,” said Asra. “I’ve let them know that she’s very well trained.” 

Muriel’s eyes widened. He looked absolutely scandalized. Even Inanna huffed, sounding offended. 

Asra burst out laughing. “Sorry, sorry! I couldn’t resist.” 

Both he and Muriel knew very well that Inanna was far from trained. She wasn’t some attack dog, or even a Castle Guard like Muriel. She was just as wild as any wolf. But she was Muriel’s stalwart companion. She hardly ever allowed him to go anywhere without her, especially not on long forays to foreign kingdoms. No, Inanna would stay close by, but would never get in the way. She was very intelligent on that end... and on a lot of other ends as well. 

“I told them everything they needed to know,” said Asra. “About Inanna _ and _ Faust.” 

This time another animal answered to her name: Asra’s silvery-purple snake, Faust. She unwound herself from his sash, curling up to his shoulder. She settled there, draped sort of like a scarf, and playfully trilled her tongue at Asra’s cheek. Asra chuckled and reached up to scratch under Faust’s chin. 

Muriel watched them silently for a moment. The moment lasted long enough for Inanna to, apparently, get a little jealous. She put her paw on Muriel’s foot and stayed there until he reached down to scratch her ears. 

“Are you sure about this, Asra?” Muriel asked after a moment. 

“Absolutely,” said Asra. He didn’t even hesitate. 

Muriel gave him an incredulous look. 

“I need to do this, Muriel,” Asra insisted. “I _ need _ to see what Vesuvia is really like. How they truly treat their people. If they’re suffering because of their own terrible decisions, or if everyone is treated unfairly...” 

“You’re just going to walk away?” asked Muriel. 

Asra sighed. “I don’t know. But I won’t find out if I show up at their doors as the great Majestro himself.” His lips twitched into a smile, as though his title alone was somewhat of a joke. “They’ll send out the red carpet, and we’ll have no chance of seeing how the Queen and the others at the Palace truly treat outsiders.” 

Muriel mumbled something about not knowing if they even _ had _ a red carpet. 

Asra laughed. “I guess we’ll see soon.”

Muriel tried to shrink further into the corner. With a hushed word from Asra, Faust disappeared back under his sash. And the carriage rumbled to a complete stop. One of the castle workers stepped up to the window. Asra leaned out to speak to them. 

“We’re here from Zadith,” was all Asra said. “At Queen Nadia’s request.” 

That was all that the palace worker needed to hear. In a moment, the carriage was surrounded by capable hands, all leading the supposed ambassador and his guard exactly where they needed to go. Asra sat back, smiling in satisfaction. 

If nothing else, this was sure to be an adventure. And he couldn’t wait to see what Vesuvia had to offer. 

He didn’t consciously hold onto the hope that, at last, he might have found the right place. That he might have been there at the right time. That he would finally have the chance to let go of the one thing he had always kept locked away. To bring back that distant memory. To relive that one perfect moment, to find that incredible person who he would want to share every adventure with. 

To find that someone that he had lost such a long time ago. Lost, but never, _ ever _ forgotten. 

Faust must have sensed the emotions he was trying so hard to hold back. She poked out of his sash again and nudged her nose against his hand. Asra gently ran a finger down her long spine. She curled happily under his hand. 

“Asra.” 

Muriel’s voice made Asra look up. His expression was smooth, completely patient. He waited for Muriel to say more. When Muriel did speak again, it seemed to take an inordinate amount of effort. 

“Are you sure you’re going to find what you’re looking for?” Muriel asked. 

For a long moment, Asra didn’t answer. He simply stared out the window again, still absentmindedly petting Faust. 

“I hope so Muriel,” he said at last. “I really hope so.” 

If Muriel had anything to say to that, it would have to wait. At that moment, the carriage door was opened for them. Inanna got swiftly to her feet, standing almost protectively in front of Muriel. Faust instantly disappeared back in Asra’s sash while Asra eagerly jumped up. He was out of the carriage almost before the door had fully opened. A red-haired woman was waiting for them. She dropped a well-practiced curtsey. 

“Welcome, ambassador,” she said brightly. “Queen Nadia has been expecting you.” 

“I’m sure she has,” Asra chuckled. 

Muriel stepped up next to him, practically casting a shadow over the entire courtyard. HIs aura was absolutely steely: completely guarded. The redhead’s eyes widened for a moment in surprise, but she made no comment. 

“This is Muriel,” said Asra, shooting his friend a comforting smile. “The Majestro’s personal guard. He insisted on coming with me.” 

Muriel grunted. Asra flashed him another quick grin. 

“I hope it’s not too much of an inconvenience...?” Asra went on. 

“Not at all!” said the redhead brightly. “So this must be your Inanna, then?” 

Innana’s tail twitched. She seemed surprised to be recognized. 

“That’s her,” Asra laughed. “She’ll be quite happy if she can find a secluded spot outdoors. I hear you have a very spectacular garden. I’m sure somewhere out there would work.” 

“We have the perfect spot all set up already!” the redhead said with a grin. She called to another member of the palace staff, and Inanna was led off with all the decorum of someone guiding royalty to their chambers. Asra’s smile widened. The way Inanna walked after the servant, she truly did look like royalty. 

“Now, then.” The redhead turned back to Asra and Muriel. “If you two would like to settle in, I could show you to your chambers.” 

“We can unpack everything later,” said Asra. “We travel light. And I wouldn’t want to keep Her Majesty waiting.” 

“Of course,” said the redhead with another curtsey. “She’s in the throne room. I’ll take you there.” 

“Thank you,” said Asra. 

The redhead waved his thoughts away. “No need to thank me. Just doing my job!” 

“I think helping us gives me every reason to thank you,” said Asra. “That wasn’t the most formal thanks, though... I could probably do better if I knew who I was thanking.” 

“Oh!” The redhead’s eyes widened in surprise. 

Asra instantly backed off. “I hope I didn’t upset you.” 

“No, not at all!” Her curls bounced as she shook her head. “It’s just... your the first Ambassador who ever asked my name, that’s all. Most of them don’t really worry about the staff.” 

Asra’s face fell even more. “Really?” 

The redhead didn’t seem too bothered by that fact. On the contrary, she was grinning. 

“Call me Portia,” she said. “And I’m more than happy to help, really, so no worries!” She bowed this time, gesturing towards the palace’s entrance. “Shall we?” 

It turned out that the Palace of Vesuvia did, in fact, have a red carpet. And several other carpets. Many of the halls seemed covered with them, though a few maintained their natural stone or marble or what-have-you. Asra was far more interested in the tapestries and portraits along the walls. Several of the paintings were of one figure, a blond man with a sword at his side and an intricate golden arm. The sight of that arm, even in paintings, made Asra’s eyes narrow. He’d only heard of a single alchemical arm, and it had a history behind it. A history that Asra didn’t enjoy remembering. 

He had to work even harder to hide his darkened expression when they actually reached the throne room. There was the Queen, resplendent in her regalia. And the man from the portraits stood at her right hand. They seemed to be in the middle of a conversation, but the Queen was quick to look up when Portia announced the visitors. 

Queen Nadia swept to her feet. “Welcome, Ambassador. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

Asra bowed. “The pleasure is all ours, Your Majesty.” 

“So formal,” Nadia chuckled. “If only all of the ambassadors I have met could be so polite.” 

“I’m happy to be of service,” Asra teased. 

“I admit you are rather younger than I expected,” Nadia mused. “You seem to be near Prince Damian’s age.” 

“Will we be meeting the prince today?” Asra asked. “The Majestro has sent another goodwill gift along with me. I would like to give it to him in person, if you don’t mind.” 

“Not at all,” said Nadia. “I believe you will be able to see him this evening. He’s out assisting his tutor with a few errands at the moment. Apparently, something quite desperate had come up.” 

“I see.” Asra’s eyes traveled to one of the portraits on the wall, this one showing the Queen and a young man that he could only assume was Prince Damian. “I hope there wasn’t any trouble.” 

“I’m sure there was not,” said Nadia. “If there were any trouble, Damian is more than capable of handling himself.” 

Asra’s smile twitched a bit higher. “I’m sure the Majestro will be happy to hear that.” 

“Ah, yes,” said Nadia. “I assume there are some things to discuss before the Majestro’s arrival.” 

“A few.” Asra’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Forgive me if this is out of line, but I believe the Majestro would like to know if there is a time frame he will need to work around. How long do you think the discussions will take?” 

“If all goes well, our kingdoms should be joined by the end of the week,” said Nadia. 

A cry of pure, indignant surprise cut through the air. All eyes instantly turned to the blond man in the corner. His chin had dropped practically to his chest. 

“Is something wrong?” Asra asked coolly. 

The blond was quick to snap his mouth closed and plaster on a grin. “Oh, no. Certainly not. I hadn’t realized things were moving along so smoothly, that’s all. One might think you didn’t need me here, Noddy.” 

He nudged the Queen with his elbow in a far-too-familiar way. Asra’s eyes narrowed. 

“We’ve done what we could while you were away, Lucio,” said Nadia, brushing him off. She turned back to Asra. “Ambassador, allow me to introduce Count Lucio, my trusted advisor.” 

Lucio flashed a grin. Asra swore his teeth sparkled in the light. 

Asra dipped a small bow. But he didn’t give the Count the satisfaction of any proper introduction. 

“If I may ask,” Asra said instead, “that’s quite the impressive prosthetic. It must be alchemically charged for it to be able to move so freely.” 

Lucio’s grin only widened. He showed off his golden arm, letting the light bounce off it perfectly.

“You like it?” he sneered. “It’s imported.” 

“From Zadith?” Asra asked directly. “I know of only a few alchemists who may have been able to perform such a feat, and two of them are from my home kingdom.” 

“Are they?” asked Lucio smoothly. “I wouldn’t know. I only ordered the thing. Works like a charm, though. Remind me to thank these mysterious alchemists of yours.” 

Asra raised an eyebrow. “Of course.” 

“Now, then,” Nadia cut in. “If that’s all settled, perhaps we shall take a respite in my sitting room? You must be exhausted after all that travel.” 

Asra bowed. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you, Your Highness.” 

Portia reappeared, then, leading them to the sitting room. As they walked, Asra kept up a light chatter with the Queen, but his mind was elsewhere entirely. 

He hadn’t found what he had been looking for. Not yet. But he’d certainly found something _ very _ interesting. 


	6. A Change of Scenery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Julian takes Damian on a totally regular trip that has absolutely zero flirting in it whatsoever and is definitely not Julian's attempt at a date becuase they can't be dating and there is clearly no chemistry at all and the fact that they are holding hands means NOTHING.

“Julian,” Damian called, “are you ever planning on telling me _ where, _ exactly, we’re going?” 

The prince was carefully leaning his head out of the window of the smallest and least noticeable of the Royal Carriages... which was still large and noticeable enough that they were getting very odd looks from the few passing pedestrians as they rumbled down the street. Julian was sitting up front with the carriage driver. Damian hadn’t so much as gotten a chance to _ look _ at him, let alone a chance to really talk to him, since Julian had so cryptically asked him to grab his coat. After putting on the change of clothes that Julian had insisted on, Damian had attempted to meet up with Julian at the stables. Instead, he had been instantly whisked off to... the situation he was in now. Julian claimed that he simply wanted to sit up front with the driver, but Damian was almost certain that his tutor had some ulterior motive. He was only glad that Oswald had fallen back to sleep, and remained asleep through all of this. It helped that Damian’s coat had a snug pocket that fit the bat perfectly. 

“Officially, I’m assisting you in running a few last-minute errands before the Majestro’s ambassador arrives,” Julian called back. 

Damian smirked. “And unofficially?” 

“We’re enjoying a change in scenery,” said Julian with a laugh. 

Damian instantly perked up. “Sightseeing?” 

“I prefer the term _ exploration, _ ” Julian replied, “but, essentially, yes. I’m going to show you the wonders of Vesuvia. The _ less _ royal wonders.” 

“You mean we’re actually going to see the city?” Damian asked. 

Julian laughed in earnest now, sounding almost triumphant. “I thought that might cheer you up.” 

Damian sat back in his seat, his mind whirling. It wasn’t that he’d never been outside the Palace, of course. All of his meetings and public appearances and the endless political discussions certainly guaranteed that. But he had never really gotten the chance to see Vesuvia itself. 

He was supposed to be taking care of this kingdom, this city, these people. And he had no clue what life was like just outside his own walls. 

It wasn’t long before the carriage rumbled to a stop. Julian was quick to dismount. He tossed the door open with a flourish and bowed, extending his hand to help Damian step onto the ground. 

Damian froze with his foot on the step. He stared at Julian, eyes wide. 

Julian straightened up. He flashed Damian a grin. “Ah. Admiring my new wardrobe, I see.” 

Damian finally managed to move, stepping down onto the cobblestones. His eyes never once left Julian, scanning the tutor’s new clothes. Damian had certainly never seen anything like them. 

Julian was decked out in black and red. He wore a black jacket with silver snaps that nearly covered his white tunic. Black leather gloves covered his hands, and matching boots practically gleamed in the sunlight. A red-lined coat was tossed almost casually over his shoulders. He hadn’t even bothered to put his arms in the sleeves. 

“Well?” Julian spread his arms out wide and did a slow turn, showing off his outfit. “What do you think?” 

Damian stared at it for a full three seconds before he could form any sort of reply.

“_ What _ are you _ wearing? _” 

“Not bad, right?” Julian chuckled. “Been dying for an excuse to try it out.” 

“So all of this secrecy was to surprise me with your new clothes?” said Damian. 

Julian grinned. “Well? Were you surprised?” 

“Very,” said Damian dryly. “But none of that explains the eyepatch.” 

“It’s all a part of my clever disguise,” said Julian without even a hint of shame. 

“You don’t need a disguise,” said Damian.

“_ You _ get one,” Julian pointed out. 

“You _ made _ me get one!” Damian protested. “Probably because, oh, I don’t know, I’m the _ prince? _” 

“And _ I’m _ your royal escort,” Julian replied easily. “That’s just as worthy of a disguise, eh?” 

Damian sighed. He buried his face in his hand. “I’m not going to talk you out of this, am I?” 

“Oh, no,” said Julian. “Absolutely not.” 

“Can you even see?” Damian asked. 

Julian simply flashed his signature smirk. “Well enough to know how roguishly handsome I look.” 

“You look like a child playing pirate,” Damian rebuffed. 

Julian laughed. “Perfect. Just like the good old days.” 

Before Damian could even begin to puzzle out what _ that _ meant, Julian swept a bow that was utterly over-the-top, even by Julian standards. He even whirled his long black coat, making the red lining flash in the sunlight. 

“Well, then.” He gallantly offered a hand. “Shall we?” 

Damian shook his head, but he was smiling nonetheless. “By all means, lead the way.” 

Julian straightened up and swept his way down the street, coat billowing out behind him. Damian had to dance around it before falling in step with his tutor. 

They traveled in comfortable silence for a moment. It was a moment just long enough for Damian to begin to take in the cramped houses and seemingly endless waterways of the city. Then Julian clapped his hands together, and the moment ended. 

“So!” he cried. “What would you like to see? The market? The docks?” 

Damian shrugged. “Where do you usually go?” 

“Me?” Julian laughed awkwardly. “Ah, no place fit for a prince, I’m sure...” 

“I thought you said we were looking for a change of scenery,” Damian said pointedly. 

“Uh, yes,” Julian coughed. “I did say that, didn’t I?” 

Damian leveled him with his most princely stare. 

Julian’s ears instantly turned red. “Well, perhaps not _ that _ big of a change in scenery.” 

Damian crossed his arms, careful not to disturb Oswald, who was still sleeping soundly in his coat pocket. 

“To the market it is, then!” Julian cried. He casually grabbed Damian’s hand. “I’ll show you where Pasha gets all of our pomegranates. And there’s a stall nearby that sells maps to anywhere you’d ever want to go. Would have _ loved _ that place in my pirate days, but now I suppose we can call them supplies for your geography less--” 

“Wait,” Damian laughed as he allowed himself to be dragged along. “You were _ actually _ a pirate once?” 

“Well...” Julian drew out the word with a fond smile. “I was _ on _ a pirate ship once. When I was a kid.” 

“So you stowed away,” said Damian, his own smile twitching higher. 

Julian laughed. “I wasn’t so much a _ stowaway _ as a piece of cargo... before I was promoted to cabin boy, of course. Then ship doctor, I think...” 

“Cargo?” Damian repeated, cutting him off. 

“Ah, I never told you the story of how my sister and I were adopted, did I?” Julian’s expression grew warmer. He stared off into the distance, not truly seeing anything. 

“No, you did not,” said Damian pointedly. 

He’d never even known that his tutor had been adopted in the first place. It seemed this was another thing he and Julian shared. Damian couldn’t imagine that he would have nearly as much in common with the mysterious Majestro... nor could he picture a life without Julian. Damian wondered if Julian would stay with him after the wedding. But Damian would never ask Julian to leave Vesuvia, if it came to that. Not that he wanted to leave Vesuvia in the first place.... Vesuvia was home. It always would be. 

He’d do whatever it took to protect it. 

Still... 

He was so lost in his own worries that it took a moment to realize that Julian had been talking the entire time. 

“It’s quite a story,” Julian was saying. “Mazelinka tells it better, though. You should hear it from her. Ah, right... you wouldn’t know Mazelinka either. She’s sort of our honorary grandmother. She’s the one who found us, took us in. Me and Pasha. We could go talk to her if you’d like. Mazelinka, I mean. You can talk to Pasha all the time. But we may as well see if Mazelinka’s home... ah, no, wait, Mazelinka lives in the South End, and that falls under the category of _ places not to bring a prince, _ so we shouldn’t--”

He was rambling now, and growing more and more nervous as he went on. Damian decided to put a stop to it. He gave his tutor a stern look. 

“Julian.” 

Julian stopped short. He even froze in his tracks. Damian was pulled to a stop with him. 

“Breathe,” said Damian. 

Julian took a deep breath. 

“I’m sure anywhere you’d want to show me would be amazing,” said Damian pointedly. “And I’m not the prince today, remember? Clever disguise and everything?” 

Julian chuckled. “Right. Of course.” 

Only then did he seem to notice that he was still holding Damian’s hand. He quickly let go. 

“Well.” Julian cleared his throat. “To the market, then!” 

He led the way, trying to look casual as he strode down the street. But Damian could see the tension in his long limbs, see the way that his fingers fiddled nervously with the hem of his coat. Damian’s own hand felt rather cold, now. 

He had to clear the mood. 

“So,” said Damian, easily falling into step with his tutor. “Tutor, pirate, physician... is there anything else you’ve had to become in this sordid past of yours that I might like to know?” 

Julian laughed. He waggled his eyebrows. 

“Have I ever mentioned my incredible performances at the Community Theater?” he suggested. 

Damian snorted. “Tutor, pirate, physician, _ and _ thespian. I’m starting to think you’ve been everything but the town drunk.” 

Julian’s ears turned red again. “Well. Um. You see...”

“_ Julian. _” 

“Blame the fact that Salty Bitters taste better the more you have,” said Julian defensively. 

“Do I even _ want _ to know what a Salty Bitter is?” Damian asked. 

“Probably not, no.” 

Damian sighed. “Julian...” 

“Don’t worry,” Julian chuckled. “If we’re avoiding the South End, we won’t come anywhere near any Salty Bitters.” 

“_ Please _ stop saying Salty Bitters,” said Damian. “They sound... _ wrong. _” 

“And they taste the way they sound,” Julian teased. 

Damian rolled his eyes. “That’s it. I am officially changing the subject.” 

Julian nodded, urging him on. 

“You said your adoptive mother lives around this oh-so-scandalous South End?” Damian asked. 

“Sort of on the edge of it,” Julian agreed. “I stop by when I can. Doorway’s a little small for me, but...” 

“Let me guess,” said Damian with a smirk. “You prefer to use the window.” 

“You know me too well, Your Highness,” Julian chuckled. 

Damian shook his head. “No. _ No _ saying ‘Your Highness’ today, even in jest. I feel I’ll be hearing it far too often soon.” 

Julian instantly looked chastened. “Ah. Of course. Yes, well...” he cleared his throat. “Shall we move on, then?” 

“Is there any particular reason you’re so afraid of me seeing Mazelinka’s house?” Damian asked, only half-teasing. 

Julian shrugged. “Not so much a _ house, _ exactly. More of a little hideaway.” 

“I’m sorry,” Damian said at once. “I didn’t mean to...” 

“No, no,” said Julian, waving off his concern. “There’s no way you could have known. And I firmly believe Mazelinka’s happier where she is. Not exactly the type to want to live in the Palace.” 

“What’s she like?” Damian asked. 

“The toughest pirate there ever was,” said Julian. 

Damian rolled his eyes. “Really.” 

“Oh, yes,” said Julian. “And she makes the greatest soup in the world.” 

“Sounds like I _ do _ need to meet her, then,” Damian chuckled. 

Julian shrugged. “Perhaps you will. If we have time. But for now...” He gestured grandly before him. “Welcome to the Market.” 

Damian would have stopped short even if Julian wasn’t essentially in his way. He’d never seen anything like Vesuvia’s market before. 

He knew they were a waterfront kingdom, but he’d had no idea how tied to the community the water itself really was. The road wasn’t a road, it was a _ canal, _ covered with countless planks of wood that created an odd sort of walkway. Stalls and shops lined the edges of the canal just like it were an ordinary street. And the shoppers all seemed to know exactly where to go: not one so much as looked down at their feet as they skipped easily down the walkway, bustling towards whatever their destination might be. 

Julian glanced over at Damian. The look on Damian’s face must have been something spectacular, because Julian grinned. 

“See?” he beamed. “Nothing like a change of scenery.” 

Damian was already headed forward. “Let’s go.” 

Julian laughed. He caught up to Damian in a few easy strides. 

Damian was eager to explore everything. It helped that he had a fair few coins hidden away in his cloak pockets. Emboldened by Julian’s excuse that they were just grabbing more supplies for Damian’s various lessons (and alchemy experiments), Damian bought a small sample of crystals from the local fortune-teller, a spiky thing called a dragon fruit from an exotic fruit stand, and even snagged an old map of Nevivon from Julian’s acclaimed map-stand. Julian instantly started to protest, insisting that he didn’t need anything. 

“You said it yourself,” said Damian. “Perfect for geography lessons. Besides, you’re the one who’s spent half the trip talking about the ‘good old days’.” 

“Can’t say I can argue with that, exactly,” said Julian, looking distinctly embarrassed. “But you do realize I _ will _ have to make it up to you.” 

Damian shook his head. “I can’t have you spending your own earnings on me.” 

“I thought it was impolite to turn down a gift,” Julian chuckled. He laughed harder when he saw the expression on Damian’s face. “Don’t give me that look. I promise, I won’t spend all of my gold at once.” 

“Really?” said Damian skeptically.

Julian raised one hand, putting the other against his heart. “On my honor as your most trusted tutor.” 

Damian shook his head. But he was smiling, and he certainly didn’t protest any further. 

Julian glanced around the market before apparently settling on a nearby stand. He dashed over to it, leaving Damian to follow him in utter bemusement. Apparently, he’d found a spot selling all sorts of flowers. Julian gestured grandly to the blossoms. 

“Well, Damian? Any of these strike your fancy?” 

Damian came closer. They were all very nice, and many of them were native to lands outside of Vesuvia. How they stayed in good condition over a long journey, Damian would never know. 

“So... you’re trying to bribe me with flowers?” Damian teased. 

Julian laughed again. “Alright. If you won’t accept a gift of a perfectly good bribe... perhaps a challenge, then?” 

Damian crossed his arms, giving a smirk of his own. “Very well. What do you have in mind?” 

Julian answered by copying both Damian’s pose and expression. “Well, since you’re so insistent upon finding supplies for your studies, perhaps a botany review?” 

Damian nodded, urging him on. 

“If I find a blossom that you can’t name, you have to buy me a drink,” Julian proposed. “Pass my exam, and the drink’s on me.” 

Damian extended his hand. “Deal.” 

They shook on it, nearly identical grins on their faces. Julian instantly turned back to the stand, his hand slipping out of Damian’s. He clapped his gloves together. “Now! What’s this one called?” He pointed to a flower with white petals around a yellow center. 

Damian scoffed. “Really? That’s a daisy.” 

“Ah, but what’s the scientific term?” said Julian, smirking again. 

“_ Bellis perennis, _” Damian said instantly. 

It went on like that for a half-dozen flowers, each one slightly more foreign than the last. Eventually, Julian’s gloved finger landed on a flower so vividly blue that it seemed to glow even under the afternoon sun. The sapphire-veined petals extended out in a star shape. Though Julian wasn’t touching it, the petals were already starting to curl away from his glove. 

Damian frowned at it, trying to remember where he’d seen those petals before. Admittedly, he had never seen them in person, though they were supposed to thrive somewhere in Vesuvia. Just another thing he didn’t know about his own kingdom. 

“That’s... starstrand, right?” Damian said hesitantly. 

Julian grinned. “Got it in one. Seems even _ this _ one can’t stump you, despite how terrible the illustrations tend to be” 

“I don’t think _ any _ illustration could do it justice,” said Damian. “It’s gorgeous.” 

He reached out to take it from the stand. Julian slid forward, cutting him off.

“Careful,” he warned. “It’s poisonous.”

The comment earned him a glare from the flower seller, which was completely ignored. 

“Oh, yes,” said Damian. “If you _ eat _ it. But it’s perfectly harmless to the touch.” 

As though to prove his point, he plucked the flower right out of its little nook and presented it to Julian. Julian instantly turned red. He cleared his throat. He stared at the flower for a moment, then almost hastily took it out of Damian’s hand.

“It really is dangerous, you know,” said Julian, tone oddly quiet. “The poison distilled from this flower has toppled empires.” 

Damian cupped his hand around Julian’s, drawing the flower to his nose. Damian took a deep breath, letting the slightly acrid smell wash over him. He opened his eyes, his golden gaze meeting Julian’s gray. 

“Good thing I’ve always liked a bit of danger,” said Damian. 

Julian managed the faintest trace of a smile. “Of course. You always were full of surprises. But... there are times when you need to know what you’re getting into.” 

Damian laughed aloud. “Says the man who has, apparently, had at least six different lives, one of which involved an awful lot of Salty Bitters.” 

Julian grimaced, but he said nothing. 

“Besides,” Damian went on. “Isn’t not knowing what makes it fun?” 

Julian let out a soft sigh. “I suppose you’re right. Here...” 

He pulled the flower away from Damian’s hand... and tucked it behind the prince’s ear. Damian’s breath caught in his throat. 

“Look at that,” Julian murmured. “It suits you.” 

Damian blinked up at him. He felt heat creep into his cheeks. A thousand things that Damian had wanted to say seemed to pull at him, desperate to be heard. After all, if he didn’t say anything now, he might lose his only chance. 

“Julian... I...”

“Well.” Julian casually flicked a coin at the flower stand. “I’d say you won my little challenge, fair and square. And I know _ exactly _ the right place to get drinks.” 

Damian tried again. “Julian...”

“Hmm?” Julian glanced down at him, looking utterly distracted. 

Damian took a deep breath. There was still so much left to say. But all that managed to come out was: “Are you feeling alright?” 

“What?” Julian looked startled. “Of course. Right as rain. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You’re acting... strange,” said Damian. “Stranger than usual.” 

“That _ would _ be impressive,” Julian chuckled. “But there’s no need to worry about me. I’m perfectly alright. See?” 

He spread out his arms, as though trying to show off how healthy he was. Of course, his limbs were so long that he accidentally smacked into the flower stand, sending blossoms scattering to the ground. He bit off a swear and hastily snatched them up before they officially hit the dirt. 

“Well, uh.” Julian cleared his throat. “Aside from my reflexes, I suppose.”

“Let me help you,” said Damian, crouching down to catch the blossoms himself. 

“Ah, no, really, I shouldn’t let-- _ ow. _” 

Both Julian and Damian reeled back with a grunt of pain. They had both attempted to gather the flowers so quickly that their foreheads had smacked together. 

“I suppose I deserved that,” said Julian. 

Damian straightened up. “Julian. Please, tell me. Is something wrong?” 

Julian laughed awkwardly. He turned away from Damian, busying himself with rearranging the flowers. The stall owner’s glare bored into Julian’s back. 

“Wrong?” Julian repeated. “Why would anything be wrong? I’m perfectly fine. No, no, I’m better than fine. Who wouldn’t be, on such a beautiful day with such wonderful company?” 

“You’re right,” said Damian. 

But there was a hint of sadness in his tone. Damian was so violently aware that moments like this couldn’t last forever. No matter how much he may have wanted them to. 

“Right,” Julian said awkwardly. “Yes. Well, ah... here we go.” 

He tossed another coin to the flower seller: a much larger one this time. This seemed to be enough to satisfy the merchant, for they went off without so much as a word. 

“And, on that note, I _ do _ owe you a drink,” said Julian. “Wait right here. I’ll only be a moment.” 

He spared a single quick glance at Damian before starting to run off. 

“No Salty Bitters,” Damian called after him. 

Julian chuckled. “No Salty Bitters,” he promised. 

He dropped Damian a quick, practiced bow. Then he disappeared into the bustle of the market. 

Damian had never quite felt so alone before. 

He stayed there for a moment, simply taking in the scenery. They seemed to be fairly close to the edge of the market. Up ahead was an older, less vibrant street. When he craned his head, he could see a seemingly endless set of stone steps that could very well have led all the way back to the palace. It was an odd thought. The market seemed like a completely different world. To know that it was right _ there, _ close enough that one might walk from one to the other... it didn’t seem possible. The palace and the town seemed far too different. 

Curious, Damian wandered towards the staircase. He wouldn’t follow it all the way, of course, but he wanted to find a way to confirm his thought, to figure out if it really _ did _ lead all the way back to the palace gates. Maybe this was the path Portia took whenever she went to pick up supplies for the kitchens. Though, at a glance, the walk would be rather far, and Damian was certain a carriage wouldn’t fit through here... he sighed, thinking that if Julian had been a bit less dramatic about the whole thing they might have been able to enjoy the stroll. They might have been able to spend a little more time together. 

No. Best not think like that. The day was still young, after all. 

Before Damian had even reached the steps, he was distracted by the sound of a hammer on nails. He turned. Someone was boarding up an old, vacant shop. 

Or... it was vacant now. 

Two people, clearly a mother and child, were huddled outside the building, clinging to one another. Burlap sacks lay plopped at their feet. The way the bags sagged, they looked only half full. 

Damian stepped forward. What was going on? 

The man who had been boarding up the shop seemed to have finished his work. He got to his feet and stared at his work for a long time. The child’s hand tightened around the mother’s skirt. The man turned away, wrapping his arms around his family. Then he hefted up one of the bags. The mother lifted the other, one hand still clinging to her child’s. And they started their slow march down the street. 

Damian’s heart lurched. They must have lost the shop. Unable to afford it. 

It seemed the situation was worse than Damian had thought. 

He had to marry the Majestro. The kingdom needed that support. He’d always known that. But the reality had never really set in until now. 

If he didn’t go through with the queen’s plan, everyone in Vesuvia would end up like that family. They’d lose their livelihood. Their home. Everything. 

And yet... Damian would lose so much himself. But that was the duty of a prince. He’d been selfish to even think of sneaking away. 

A soft sound distracted him, a little like a chirp. Oswald shifted in his pocket. Damian looked down as the bat poked his head out of Damian’s coat. 

“Hello, there,” said Damian, surprised. “What are you doing awake?” 

Oswald’s ears twitched. His eyes seemed to light up as he turned distinctly to face another street. Damian followed his bat’s gase. The road nearby led to a far more open space with some sort of statue in the center. 

“Something down there?” Damian asked. 

Oswald shifted forward, trying to flounder out of Damian’s pocket. The bat’s ears were twitching insistently. He must have heard something _ very _ interesting. 

“Alright,” Damian chuckled. “Let’s go take a look.” 

He wove his way through the crowd and followed the street. It was rather longer than he had first thought. But he hadn’t even made it to his destination, which he quickly assumed was the town square, before he heard what must have caught Oswald’s attention. 

Someone was singing. 

Damian let the sound lead him to a much smaller crowd gathered around a fountain. A girl, probably about his age, was standing in front of it. Her voice rang through the air. But hardly anyone was listening. Though enough had stayed to watch that Damian could still blend in without causing any trouble, far more people simply passed her by, rushing off to wherever they were going. And Damian could only see a few coins in the hat by her feet. 

He glanced down at his pet. Oswald was clearly enjoying the music. 

“You want to listen, don’t you?” Damian whispered. 

Oswald chirruped. A very obvious _ yes. _

Damian let out another light laugh. “Me, too.” 

He didn’t see any harm in staying. Julian would find him eventually. Besides, he was really enjoying the girl’s song. A song of hope, a song encouraging renewal. A song that said, no matter what, even in the darkest times, nothing was really over. One could always move forward. 

It was a message Damian needed to hear. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gee, I wonder who that singer could possibly be???? 
> 
> Honestly, this one's probably my favorite chapter. It was so fun to work in all the references to the source material. And an entire chapter of Julian and Damian being idiots? The best thing.


	7. Someone Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which two paths finally cross.

Meleia didn’t even notice how small the crowd was. She didn’t mind that people in the distance didn’t seem to hear her. She was hardly aware of Forge picking up the hat she had borrowed from the shop with his mouth and trotting over to passerby to encourage them to add a coin. She was too busy throwing her heart into her song. 

Every time she met eyes with one of the shoppers who had stopped to listen, her heart warmed a little more. They were all smiling. Her song was reaching them. And in the end, that was the most important thing. 

The fact that it was one of Meleia’s favorite songs certainly helped matters. She always loved the chance to share it. A chance that she so rarely got working under Valerius. This was one of those songs he had never let her sing. So, naturally, she stole the opportunity to sing it whenever he wasn’t around. And with the shop closed for the day, and Valerius out on one of his forays into the city... well, he wasn’t due to return to the shop for hours yet. Which gave her the feeling that she had all the time in the world. 

So she sang. A song of freedom, and hope, and the chance to start again no matter where you were in life. About how you could always move forward, could always chase the path your heart sketched. 

Or, at least, that’s what it would have been. If she hadn’t been interrupted mid-word by a furious shout. 

“ _ What _ do you think you are  _ doing?! _ ” 

Forge let out a little yelp and dropped the hat, scurrying to hide behind Meleia’s skirts. Meleia gasped. Her heart shot to her throat. 

“L-lord Valerius!” she stuttered. She staggered back. “I... I was just...” 

“ _ How _ many times have I told you not to waste  _ both _ of our time cavorting around the city?” Valerius snapped. 

“I wasn’t _ cavorting! _ ” Meleia protested. “I was only... I was trying to...” 

That was when Valerius saw the hat. His expression somehow managed to grow even sterner than before. 

“You were _ only _ wasting our time  _ and _ our resources on chasing an idle dream,” Valerius hissed. 

“But we closed up the shop for today,” Meleia argued. “And you told us you were going out, so we didn’t have any other work to do, and--” 

“There is  _ always _ more work to do,” said Valerius. “I cannot have us falling behind.” 

“But--”

“And I  _ absolutely _ cannot have you muddying one of the hats that both you and your dear friend Volta worked so hard to create,” Valerius spat. 

Meleia automatically glanced down at the blue silk hat left abandoned on the ground. She felt heat creep up in her cheeks. She was blushing from utter shame. 

“I-it... it was flawed,” she said. “It wasn’t going to sell, so... so I thought I could--”

“You thought you could simply take it out of the shop for your own use?” Valerius eyed her coldly. “Not to mention stealing one of the dresses from the back room?” 

Meleia subconsciously attempted to smooth the wrinkles out of the dress. It was a simple purple gown that hadn’t even been decorated yet. But even without the embellishments, it was still far nicer than any outfit Meleia had ever owned. 

She tried to defend herself again. “I was just borrowing it. And it doesn’t matter, anyway. This one isn’t--”

Valerius held up a hand, cutting her protests short. “Of course. This was the gown that Lady Cadence had cancelled, isn’t it? Asked for pink instead of purple? I didn’t think you two were the same size.” 

Meleia’s cheeks burned even redder. 

Valerius scoffed. He picked up the hat and inspected it, flicking a speck of dirt off the brim. Then he flipped it over, emptying the coins into his hand. 

Meleia lurched forward. “Wait! Those are mine, I earned them myself!” 

“Then you can use them to pay for the dress you  _ borrowed, _ ” Valerius snarled. “Or would you rather consider this another tribute towards Volta’s debt? You do  _ so _ love sharing your earnings with her, don’t you?” 

Meleia’s head dropped down. She said nothing. 

Valerius slid the coins into his purse. He tossed the empty hat back at Meleia’s feet. 

“Be sure to have  _ both _ the hat  _ and _ gown cleaned before we begin work tomorrow,” he ordered. 

Slowly, Meleia crouched down on the ground and picked up the hat. She stayed there for a moment, utterly crushed. 

“And you would do well to stop pretending,” Valerius added as he swept away. “You could never make a career as a singer.” 

Meleia’s breath caught in her throat. Her hands trembled, making the hat shake. She didn’t even notice Forge coming up to her and pressing his nose against her wrist in an attempt to make her feel better. 

Then something plopped into the hat. Meleia blinked rapidly. Someone had dropped two gold coins right into her lap. 

“I liked your song.” 

Meleia looked up. A young man, probably about her own age, was smiling at her. His face was half-hidden under his hood, which would normally be very suspicious, but he certainly didn’t look menacing in the slightest. He was even crouched down, meeting Meleia’s gaze. 

“Thanks,” Meleia managed. She still felt rather numb; no one had ever given her  _ one _ gold coin before, let alone  _ two _ . “But you really didn’t have to--” 

“Do you want me to have a chat with that gentleman?” the boy asked, glancing over his shoulder to where Valerius had vanished. 

“No,” Meleia said quickly. “It’s alright. Really. You don’t have to do that.” 

The boy met her gaze again. He actually looked concerned. “Are you sure? He definitely deserves a talking-to. If not more.” 

Meleia shook her head. “No, really, I’m fine. You don’t have to go through all that trouble.”

The boy chuckled. “It wouldn’t be any trouble. Honestly, I’d be happy to do it. If you’re sure, though... at least let me help you up.” 

He held out his hand. Meleia caught herself staring at the sleeve of his coat. She knew that pattern. She’d embroidered those sleeves herself. He must have been a very important nobleman if he had enough to afford that coat  _ and _ casually toss two gold coins to a complete stranger. 

“Something wrong?” he asked. 

Only then did Meleia realize how awkwardly long she’d been sitting there.

“N-no, sorry,” she stuttered. She took his hand, allowing him to haul her up. “Thank you.” 

“Of course,” said the boy with a nod. “It wouldn’t exactly be proper of me to leave you stranded in the middle of the road, would it?” 

The boy was still smiling. Meleia couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not. But she managed a bit of a smile back. 

“I guess not,” she said with an awkward laugh. “Still. Thanks.” 

“You’ve thanked me enough,” said the boy. “Especially considering I didn’t do much.” 

“You did a lot,” said Meleia. “Trust me.” 

The boy eyed her for a moment. Then his gaze trailed back to the path that Valerius had taken. 

“Do you get a lot of people like that?” he asked quietly. 

Meleia flushed. “H-how much did you see?” 

“Enough to know that no one should be treated the way you were,” the boy replied. “If I ever find out who he is...” 

“No, it’s okay,” Meleia insisted. “I shouldn’t have been out here, anyway.” 

The boy raised an eyebrow. But then he smiled. “You snuck out, too?” 

“What?” Meleia gasped, surprised. Was he saying that  _ he _ had snuck out? But he was a noble. They could go anywhere they wanted,  _ do _ anything they wanted... 

“We have that in common,” he laughed. “What pressure did you need to get away from?” 

“No, I wasn’t trying to get away from... I was trying to...” Meleia shook her head, trying to get herself back in gear. “Sorry. I just... I never thought nobles had anything to run away from.” 

“You knew I was... a noble?” the boy asked. 

Meleia nodded. 

The boy cleared his throat awkwardly. “Was it that obvious?” 

Meleia shrugged. “Well, casually handing two gold coins to some random girl on the street usually gives it away.” 

“I suppose it would,” the boy laughed. 

“And your sleeves,” Meleia added, somewhat emboldened. “I happen to know that’s a pretty expensive coat.” 

The boy stared at his sleeve in surprise. Then he heaved an exaggerated sigh. “And I thought I blended in perfectly... so much for our grand ‘going incognito’ plan.” 

Meleia found herself flushed again. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble or anything.” 

“Don’t worry,” he replied. “I’m not in any trouble. Yet. I mean, Julian might be upset when he finds out I ran off, but...” 

“Julian?” Meleia repeated. 

The boy clapped a hand to his forehead. “Gods, of course you’d have no idea what I was talking about... I never even introduced myself, did I?” He straightened up and gave her a noble sort of nod. “My name is Damian.” 

Meleia instantly brightened. “Really? Just like the prince!” 

Damian coughed again. “Well... yes.  _ Exactly _ like the prince.” 

He lowered his hood, revealing wavy, dark brown hair, decorated with a single bright blue flower. He smiled almost awkwardly, as though expecting a huge reaction. 

It took Meleia a full three seconds to figure out what she was supposed to react  _ to _ . When she did, she instantly turned bright red.

Exactly like the prince... because he  _ was _ the prince. She was talking to Prince Damian of Vesuvia. 

_ Prince Damian of Vesuvia had given her two gold coins for her song. _

Meleia dropped into the best curtsey she could... which wasn’t a particularly good one. 

“Oh, Your Highness!” she gasped. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to be disrespectful, I had no idea you--” 

“Stop,” Damian cut her off. “Please. It’s perfectly fine. I don’t  _ want _ to be treated like a prince right now. I snuck out, remember?” 

Meleia sheepishly straightened up. “Oh. Right. Sorry.” 

Damian shook his head, amused. “It’s alright. Really. You don’t have to apologize for absolutely everything, you know.” 

Meleia automatically started to say “sorry” again, only to quickly cut herself off. 

Damian laughed in earnest. “That’s certainly a start!” 

Meleia felt her cheeks heating up again. It was amazing how quickly she could turn absolutely everything awkward. 

Surprisingly, Damian didn’t seem to mind that much. Maybe he appreciated her non-royal charms... or lack of any charm, as the case was here. Either way, he was still smiling. 

“I, um... I like your flower,” said Meleia. 

Damian’s smile turned slightly embarrassed. “Thank you. It was a gift. I like your necklace, miss...?” 

“Meleia. Just Meleia.” Her hand automatically drifted towards her crystal. “This was a gift, too.” 

“What a coincidence,” Damian chuckled. “Well, it’s nice to officially meet you, Meleia. If I may ask... what does someone like  _ you _ have to run from?” 

“I wasn’t actually  _ running _ from anything,” Meleia explained. “I was trying to earn a little extra.”

“You mean you aren’t a singer?” Damian asked. 

Meleia sighed. “Not really. I work for Lord Valerius. At his Fine Clothing Shoppe, you know?” 

“You work  _ there? _ ” said Damian, surprised. “I love his designs. I’d thought they were imported or something... I had no idea the shop was right in town.” 

“It’s not too far from here, actually,” said Meleia. “Right on the edge of the market.” 

She pointed in the general direction of the shop. Damian craned his neck as though trying to see it from where they were. 

“I had no idea...” he murmured again. Then he turned his attention back to Meleia. “Well, it’s no wonder you knew about my coat, then, if you work there...” 

“I actually made that coat,” said Meleia. Her cheeks flushed again, this time with something closer to pride. 

Damian’s eyes widened. “You made this? It’s one of my favorites. Oswald likes it, too.”

Before Meleia could ask who Oswald was-- but not quite before she could wonder if  _ every _ royal personage just spouted names out like Damian did-- Damian shifted his coat to reveal one of the pockets in the lining. A tiny bat poked its head out, ears perking as it blinked at Meleia. 

“This is Oswald,” Damian introduced her. “I never travel without him.” 

Meleia gasped. “He’s so sweet!” 

The bat’s nose twitched. He made a little noise that was almost like a trill. 

Damian laughed. “He likes you. Right, Oswald?” 

The bat-- Oswald-- twitched his nose in approval. 

Something furry brushed against Meleia’s leg. Apparently, Forge had decided it was safe to come out of hiding. Meleia was quick to pick him up and hug him close to her chest. She knew it wasn’t in Forge’s nature to hurt anyone, or go chasing after perfectly calm bats, but at the moment she really wasn’t willing to take any chances. 

“And here’s another fan of our coats,” said Meleia with an awkward laugh. “If the fact that he keeps trying to make a nest out of our spare fabric is any indication, anyway.” 

Damian’s hand hovered towards Forge’s ears. “I’ve never seen a fox like that... can I pet him?”

Beaming, Meleia nodded. 

Still looking almost enchanted, Damian carefully ran his hand across the top of Forge’s head. Forge leaned into the touch with a happy sigh. 

“He likes you, too,” said Meleia. 

“I can tell,” Damian chuckled. “What’s his name?”

“Forge,” said Meleia. 

“Well, hello there, Forge,” said Damian, his smile only widening. “That’s quite the impressive name you have.” 

Meleia flushed. “I found him behind the blacksmith’s shop. I don’t know what happened to him, but he was hurt and scared. I took care of him until he was back on his feet. He hasn’t left me alone since.” 

Meleia paused there, almost surprised at herself. She’d never told that story to anyone before. It was nice to have someone to talk to. 

“Funny,” said Damian with interest, “Oswald was a rescue, too. Someone was trying to sell him on the black market. He was really beaten up.” 

Meleia winced in sympathy. She didn’t want to imagine the type of person who would sell a tormented animal just for a few coins.  _ No one _ needed money  _ that _ badly. She hoped. 

As though reacting to his name, Oswald poked his head out of Damian’s pocket. The bat’s nose twitched. He leaned closer to Forge. 

Meleia automatically pulled her fox backwards, but Forge would not be denied the chance to sniff right back at this curious new creature. Both Meleia and Damian held their breath as the two animals inspected each other. Then, quite brazenly, Oswald pressed his nose against Forge’s. Forge lurched back, startled. Then he gently booped Oswald’s nose as well. 

And, just like that, they were instantly friends. 

Oswald slipped out of Damian’s pocket and fluttered into the air. Forge yipped happily and wiggled out of Meleia’s arms. It didn’t take long before the two of them were joyfully romping around the fountain together. 

Damian grinned. “I can see why it would be harder to get things done at the clothing shop with this guy around,” he teased. “Does he shed much?” 

“Not much,” said Meleia. “But, like I said, we can’t leave any spare fabric lying around.”

“As if making clothes wasn’t difficult enough on its own,” Damian laughed. “Now you have to contend with a fabric thief as well as sew on all these fasteners and pockets. I’d always thought this jacket must have been so complicated to put together...” 

Meleia laughed. “ _ That  _ coat? That’s nothing. You should see a wedding dress sometime.  _ Those _ are crazy.” 

Damian chuckled in return. “I believe it.” 

His expression fell. He stopped petting Forge, much to the fox’s very vocal dismay. 

Meleia was about to apologize again. But she remembered in time that she wasn’t supposed to. So she changed her tactics a bit. 

“Something wrong?” she asked gently. 

“Nothing.” Damian shook his head. “Just... remembered what  _ I _ was running from, is all.” 

He sounded so upset. Meleia wanted to help. It was the least she could do, after he’d given her those two gold coins. She sat down on the lip of the fountain, silently gesturing for him to join. Damian blinked, startled. She gave him what she hoped was a comforting smile. After another moment where Damian stared at her in sheer confusion, he sat next to her. And he started to tell his story. 

“You might have noticed that the kingdom isn’t doing all that well financially at the moment,” Damian began. 

Meleia nodded. “Lord Valerius is always worried about how the shop is doing.” 

“My mother-- the Queen-- may have found a solution,” Damian went on. “The Majestro of a kingdom fairly close by has offered his assistance.” 

He paused there, but Meleia had the feeling he wasn’t finished. So she waited. If he wanted to say more, he would. 

Thankfully, he did. 

“But mother keeps talking about making  _ arrangements _ ,” said Damian. “Which means that I’m going to get married.” 

“To the Majestro?” Meleia asked. 

Damian nodded. 

“What’s he like?” said Meleia. 

“No idea,” said Damian. “We’ve never even met. And if I could, I would much rather...” he trailed off with a sigh. “Well. It doesn’t really matter. I have to help my people. And I can’t let my mother down. She gave me everything... I can’t bear to disappoint her.” 

Meleia’s heart lurched. She thought of her own situation, her own sort of family. 

“I think I know exactly what you mean,” said Meleia quietly. 

Damian managed a smile. “Seems we have a lot in common.” 

“Seems so,” Meleia agreed. 

“Even music,” said Damian. “I play guitar.” 

“Really?” Meleia sat bolt upright. “I’d love to hear it, someday.” 

Damian chuckled. “I bet if I accompanied you, we’d make much more than just two gold coins.” 

Meleia blinked. The concept of  _ more  _ than that made her head spin. She knew, in the back of her mind, that some nobles spent far more than that on her dresses-- which, now that she thought about it, made the fact that she got so little out of it seem wildly unfair-- but she’d never even owned  _ one _ gold coin of her own before. 

“Did I say something wrong?” Damian asked. 

Meleia shook her head. “No. No, it’s just... this is the first time I’ve even  _ had _ two gold coins. Earning more than that in just a day, in just an hour or so out here singing... I’d never even dared to picture it.” 

“Are things truly that bad?” Damian said softly. 

“I guess they might seem bad,” Meleia shrugged. “But I’ve never really known anything else.” 

She glanced at Damian again. The look on his face was almost wounded. Meleia felt awful. She shouldn’t have tried to bring that all up. 

Forge must have sensed Meleia’s distress, for he stopped romping with Oswald enough to settle back on Meleia’s lap. Meleia hugged him close and tried to redeem herself. 

“I mean, think of it this way,” she stumbled. “If any of us want anything besides bread and cheese for breakfast, we have to go out and get it ourselves. I’ve heard nobles eat fresh eggs every morning... I’d have to walk a mile just to find someone who might sell them.” 

“On your own?” said Damian, shocked. 

“It’s not so bad,” said Meleia. “I’ve walked much farther before.” 

Damian shook his head. “I can’t even imagine...”

“I bet you just get whatever breakfast you want handed to you on a silver tray,” said Meleia, teasing. “You’ve got five maids bringing a full three-course meal to your ivory tower, right?” 

“Not quite,” said Damian casually. “It’s four courses. And a marble tower, actually.” 

Meleia’s jaw dropped. 

Damian burst out laughing. “Got you.” 

Meleia gaped for a moment more. Then she started laughing, too. 

“Didn’t expect a prince to have a sense of humor?” said Damian, teasing her right back. 

“I didn’t expect someone as polite as you to play tricks,” Meleia rebuffed. 

Damian chuckled. “Fair point. But, really, you weren’t  _ completely _ wrong. I guess I  _ can _ have breakfast in bed whenever I want.” 

“But...?” Meleia prompted. 

Damian managed a faint smile before sighing. “But... breakfast in bed or no, I need to wake up at the crack of dawn nearly every morning. Thousands of things to do and places to be every day... you have no idea how amazing it is to take a moment out here, where I don’t have to worry about any of those public appearances or speeches or diplomatic meetings.” 

“What would you rather be doing?” asked Meleia. “Playing guitar?” 

“Well, yes,” said Damian. “But... and this might sound insane, but I’d rather be researching.” 

“Researching?” Meleia repeated. 

“What I really love to do is work on my alchemy projects,” said Damian passionately. “I’ve always loved trying to combine different elements, to see the results, to create something that has never been discovered before... and there’s an entire world out there, full of all sorts of opportunities. For me to actually go out and see it all for myself, to try any new thing I might wish... that would be incredible.” 

Meleia nodded. “I know how you feel. I’ve never been outside of Vesuvia. It would be amazing to travel, and to sing for a  _ real _ audience...” 

“Why don’t you?” Damian asked. “Your voice is wonderful. I’m sure you could find some way to promote yourself, as it were. Soon enough, you’d be famous enough that the travel would pay for itself.” 

“I hope so,” said Meleia. “Someday. I don’t even care about the fame, really, I just want to sing, to find somewhere that might...” Meleia trailed off with a sigh of her own. “Never mind. I have to stay here now, anyway. There’s always so much to do at the shop, and I can’t leave Volta behind. She works at the shop, too,” Meleia added at Damian’s odd look, “and she’s far more worse off than me. I can’t just leave her.” 

Damian nodded. “Doing the right thing is difficult sometimes, isn’t it.” 

“Sometimes,” Meleia agreed. “But in the end it’s worth it, right?” 

“Right,” said Damian. “Though you can’t help but dream.” 

“Of course,” said Meleia. 

For a moment, they both stared off in the distance. Both were thinking their own thoughts of a life far away from their own, a life where they could be the person they wanted to be. A life where all their dreams could come true. 

Meleia’s thoughts were interrupted when Forge yipped again. Meleia looked up. Oswald had settled himself on Damian’s shoulder. Damian was patting his bat’s head absentmindedly, not even aware of what he was doing. Meleia realized belatedly that she had been petting Forge in much the same way. 

Meleia smiled. “Damian?” 

Damian looked up. “Hmm?” 

“It looks like we’re really similar, doesn’t it?” said Meleia. 

Damian stared at her. For a split second, he still looked lost in his own thoughts. Then he smiled. 

“It really does,” he mused, “Who would have thought I’d find someone like me all the way out here?” 

“I was kind of thinking the same thing,” said Meleia. “Hard to believe, right? Me, ending up friends with a prince.” She gasped, flushing again. “I-I mean, if we are... if you don’t mind me saying we’re...” 

“Oh, definitely,” Damian agreed casually. “Our animals are already close, so we can’t be far behind. Not to mention the fact that we just had a very heartfelt talk. Pretty sure that all qualifies us as friends.” 

Meleia smiled. It had been a very long time since she’d made a friend. She wasn’t fully sure if this was how it worked, but she was grateful all the same. 

“Thanks,” said Meleia. 

Damian shook his head. “I should be the one thanking you. And... probably apologizing for your breakfast debacle,” he added, awkwardly running a hand through his hair. 

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” Meleia said quickly. “I’m used to it. Besides, I usually just sneak off to the market and grab some pumpkin bread instead.” 

Damian blinked. “Pumpkin what?” 

Meleia practically leapt to her feet in sheer glee. “You’ve never had pumpkin bread! There’s this great stand right at the edge of the market... let me show you!” 

She held out her hand. Damian shook his head, bemused.

Meleia flushed. “Sor-- I mean, did I do something wrong?” 

“No, not at all,” said Damian. “You just remind me a bit of my... my friend Julian. That’s all.” 

“Is he the one you were talking about before?” Meleia asked, her hand falling lamely to her side. 

Damian nodded. “The one who is going to be very upset when he finds out I wandered off without him, yes. Not that I’ll be in any real trouble,” he added quickly, seeing the worried look on Meleia’s face. “He just worries about me, that’s all.” 

Someone who worried about him. Meleia understood, somewhat, but she couldn’t really think of anyone who might have been worrying about her. Aside from Forge, of course, but Forge was always by her side, so there was very little opportunity for the fox to worry. Maybe Volta was starting to wonder where she’d gone. Meleia privately hoped that Volta wouldn’t start worrying at all. Volta had enough to think about. 

“Should we go find him?” Meleia asked. 

“Knowing him, it’s more likely  _ he’ll _ find _ us, _ ” said Damian with a fond sort of smile. 

Before Meleia could even begin to puzzle that one out, they were interrupted by a shout. Someone was calling Damian’s name. Rather  _ frantically _ calling Damian’s name. 

Damian’s smile only widened. He stood up, dusting off his coat.

“Look at that,” he said. “Right on cue."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO I STILL FEEL BAD FOR MELEIA EVERY TIME I LOOK OVER THIS SCENE. BREAKS MY HEART. THAT IS ALL.


	8. Doing His Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Julian is an absolute (and absolutely wonderful) dork

Julian had spent the last ten minutes or so in an absolute frenzied panic. 

He’d told Damian to stay there. To stay _ right there. _ Granted, it had taken him a little longer to get some drinks than he’d anticipated, so he couldn’t exactly blame the prince for wandering off, but... 

Julian’s mind whirled through countless possibilities as he searched. Vesuvia wasn’t all _ that _ bad of a city. At least, not in the main market. It was a good thing that Julian had refused to take Damian to the South End after all. Still, despite the relative safety, _ anything _ could happen to a sheltered royal. He could have been tricked into following some unscrupulous stranger. He could have been mugged. Or ambushed. Or simply whisked away, held for ransom in some gods-forsaken back alley. Or worse. So many things could have gone wrong... 

Julian turned a corner and burst into the town square. He’d recognize that fountain anywhere: the statue of the hero on horseback that decorated it was supposed to be the image of Count Lucio. Commissioned by Lucio himself, of course. Julian had never seen much likeness, but at the moment the fountain was the last thing on his mind. 

“_ Damian! _” 

The name whooshed out of him in a mix of worry and relief. He’d found him. Thank heavens, he’d found him. 

Julian rushed towards the prince, abandoning the somehow-still-mostly-full mugs he’d been carrying on the lip of the fountain. He neither noticed nor cared if anything spilled. He simply threw himself at Damian, grabbing the prince’s shoulders so he could inspect him for any injuries. 

“_ There _ you are!” Julian breathed. “What happened? Were you ambushed?” 

Damian’s cheeks flushed slightly pink. It was a look that Julian had always found unbearably adorable. 

“I’m fine, Julian,” Damian assured him. 

“You’re fine?” Julian repeated. He gave Damian another once-over. His panic abated a bit. “You... you _ are _ fine aren’t you? Were you here all this time?”

“I suppose so,” said Damian.

He sounded so casual about it. As though he hadn’t just run off to the square without any regard for what was going on around him. But, Julian supposed, Damian was just like that. Once Damian had his mind set on something, nothing could turn him away. Julian only wished he knew exactly what was so important about the center of town. 

At the moment, though, he didn’t really have the heart to ask. 

“I’m sorry,” Julian said with a grimace. “I should have been back sooner. I thought I might pick something up at a little tea shop I used to go to, but... I, ah, hadn’t realized it was closed down.” 

Damian winced. Julian’s guilt instantly increased. So Julian did what he did best. He kept talking. 

“I had to run somewhere else instead,” Julian went on. “Still no Salty Bitters, I promise. And by the time I came back for you...” 

“Julian.” Damian cut off his rant, putting a gentle hand on Julian’s arm. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine.”

Julian gave him a doubtful look. He couldn’t help it. He’d just been so worried. Julian took a deep breath, fully prepared to launch into another ramble of concern. And probably a few more apologies. 

“Really,” Damian insisted. “Oswald got a little distracted, that’s all.” 

Julian’s rant was cut short before it even began. His eyes widened, which was a rather odd sensation with the eyepatch. 

“Oswald...?” Julian repeated. 

He was utterly confused. The bat wasn’t even on Damian’s shoulder, and Damian’s coat suspiciously lacked the lump that gave away Oswald’s favorite napping pocket. 

Finally, Julian took a good look around. He spotted Oswald, fluttering around with surprising energy considering it was hardly even evening. He seemed to be playing with another animal: a small fox with ears that were nearly the size of its entire body. The fox leaped and bounded and curled around the ankles of a girl that Julian didn’t recognize. She was about the same age as Damian, though probably not half as noble: her shoes were nearly falling apart, her soft purple gown was rather plain, and the only semblance of jewelry she wore was what looked like a handmade necklace set with a few small crystals. Still, she was pretty, with wide silver eyes, long black curls, and a spray of freckles across her nose. She was smiling shyly as her eyes darted back and forth between Julian and the romping animals. With the way Damian was watching Julian expectantly, Julian must have interrupted their conversation. 

Julian knew that the last thing Damian would do was start flirting with a random city girl, especially when Damian knew he had to marry the Majestro to save his kingdom. So Julian did the only natural thing. 

He pretended that he’d caught Damian flirting with the random city girl. 

He shot Damian a playful smirk. “Why, Damian, you should have _ told _ me you were going to meet up with a friend,” said Julian. 

“I didn’t even know she was a friend until--” Damian tried to protest, but Julian was already on a roll. 

“And someone so lovely, as well!” said Julian grandly. 

He swept away from Damian and bowed to Meleia, flicking his coat behind him in a way that made the red lining flash again. He scooped up one of the mugs he’d brought and offered it to her on bended knee, like a knight to his lady. The girl stared at him. She took a step back. Julian hardly noticed. 

“I simply can’t allow a fair lady such as yourself to go thirsty,” said Julian. “Particularly a friend of Damian’s.” 

“I... um...” the girl stuttered. 

Damian sighed. He grabbed Julian’s coat and yanked him back. Julian scrambled up, barely managing not to dump the entire mug all over the girl’s dress. 

“Stop it,” said Damian. “You’re scaring her.” 

Julian chuckled, lifting his free hand in surrender. “Sorry, my dear. I didn’t mean any harm. Just, ah, got a bit carried away, I suppose.” 

“_ Very _ carried away,” said Damian dryly. “Perhaps you should save such dramatic performances for your incredible return to the community theater.” 

The girl gasped in surprise. “Oh, you performed at the theater? I _ thought _ I might have seen you before, but I... well. I thought you worked at the palace.” 

Julian’s eyes widened again. He turned to the girl in shock. 

“You... you’ve seen me perform?” he blurted out. 

He loved performing, of course, and his zest for dramatic acts certainly hadn’t vanished since he left the stage. But he hadn’t so much as set foot in the community theater for years. Not since he’d decided to dedicate all the time he could to helping out at the palace. To helping Damian. 

“I think so?” the girl said slowly. “It was a long time ago. Lord Valerius took me, once. Probably only because I helped make the costumes.” 

Julian turned to Damian, silently asking a question. Who _ was _ this girl? 

“Julian,” said Damian, “Allow me to formally introduce you to Meleia. She’s a seamstress, working under Lord Valerius.” 

“That clothing shop at the edge of the market?” Julian asked. 

Meleia nodded. 

“Interesting,” Julian mused. “I haven’t been there myself, but Pasha’s always talking about it. Apparently, the Palace has commissioned quite a few ensembles from that shop...” 

“Including my coat,” Damian cut in. “Which Meleia made herself.” 

“Really?” Julian turned back to Meleia, impressed.

Meleia’s cheeks tinted pink. But she nodded. 

“Incredible,” said Julian. “It’s a very fine coat.” 

“I-it’s nothing, really...” Meleia stuttered. “Some of the other things I’ve made were much harder. And even then, they’re not the best...” 

“No, no, I mean it,” said Julian. “Damian always admired that coat, and it certainly caught my eye as well. I may have to ask for an ensemble from you, myself.” 

Meleia’s blush went from pink to full-on tomato red. A complexion that Julian had often seen in the mirror. 

“Th-thanks,” Meleia mumbled. 

“No need to be so intimidated,” Damian chuckled. “He’s completely harmless.” 

Julian snorted in laughter at the notion of being called _ harmless. _ Hardly the most flattering term. And Julian wasn’t sure it was entirely accurate. He did have the tendency to get into trouble more often than not. After all, he knew how bad the South End could get from personal experience. 

Damian seemed oblivious to Julian’s half-laugh. 

“Oh, right, I haven’t finished my introductions, have I?” Damian went on. “Meleia, this is Julian. He’s my tutor. And a very close friend. He’s also, apparently, a theater aficionado.” 

Judging by the way his own face was heating up, Julian had probably become a top contender for the prize of “face that looked the most like a tomato.” So, naturally, he tried to laugh it off. 

“Hardly,” Julian chuckled. “I’ve simply dabbled, that’s all.” 

Meleia shook her head. “You were really good. I mean, as far as I remember.” 

Julian let out another awkward laugh. “Well. I’m not sure if everyone would agree with you, but I certainly had fun. I wouldn’t mind going back someday...” 

“Perhaps Meleia would like to join you onstage,” said Damian. “She’s a _ very _ talented singer. I plan to invite her to sing for the Palace someday.” 

Meleia’s eyes widened. Her surprised look became one of utter shock. 

“R-really?” she gasped. 

Damian nodded. “Of course.” 

For a moment, Meleia looked stunned, but incredibly happy. As though she couldn’t believe her ears. She was practically glowing with excitement. 

Then her face fell. “Oh, no, I... I couldn’t.” 

She sounded so heartbroken that Julian’s own heart instantly went out to her. For another moment, he saw a lot of himself in her. She struck him as someone else that the world had chewed up and spat back out. He wished he knew how to help her. Or Damian. Or anyone, really. 

“Why not?” Damian asked. 

“I shouldn’t... I mean... I’m just a shopkeep,” Meleia stammered. “I really couldn’t impose...” 

Damian laughed. “It’s not imposing, Meleia. I’m officially inviting you.” 

Meleia flushed. “But... really? Me?” 

“Yes,” said Damian. “Really you.” 

Meleia shook her head, still looking rather overwhelmed. But her smile had returned. Julian breathed a little easier. Leave it to his prince to set everything right. 

No. Wait. Julian shouldn’t be thinking of Damian as _ his _ prince anymore, should he? Or was he still allowed to think that way for a few more hours, or days, or however long it would be until the impending wedding? 

An image came to mind, sudden and incredibly unwanted, of a palace without Damian. It would be empty. Cold. And there would certainly be much less laughter. But Julian would have to live with it, he supposed. He certainly wouldn’t be able to change Damian’s mind. As long as he saw it as the only option, Damian would go through with this marriage plan. No matter what Julian or anyone else said. 

At least Meleia still looked happy. 

“Thank you,” she breathed. “I can’t even tell you how much that means to me.” 

Damian gave a sad sort of smile. “I think I have a good idea.” 

Julian glanced between the two of them. He’d never seen Damian look so... un-guarded, before. Aside from the times they had snuck off to work on alchemy or some other project together. Damian had always been rather outgoing, and certainly communicated well and made friends fairly easily, but he’d never really dropped that princely facade. Well, perhaps to Pasha and the Queen, but that was about it. A part of Julian was very glad that the prince finally seemed to be connecting to other people. The rest of Julian was trying very hard not to think of how quickly Damian and the Majestro were bound to get along. 

Julian cleared his throat. “Well. You two seem to know each other fairly well.” 

“Not really,” said Meleia awkwardly. “I mean, we just met today.” 

“Oswald heard her singing,” Damian explained. “I couldn’t help but go see her performance for myself as soon as I caught up with Oswald’s excellent ears.” 

“And after all that fuss about disguises and insisting on not being the prince today, you decided to tell her who you were?” Julian teased.

It was honestly rather funny to him. True, Julian had been the one to insist that Damian’s trip be as inconspicuous as possible. And yet Damian had trusted the one who was, presumably, the first person he’d struck up a real conversation with while out in the city. That willingness to trust was just another thing that Julian admired about him. 

“Actually, she figured it out on her own,” said Damian. 

“It helped that he told me his real name,” Meleia admitted. “And I remembered the coat.” 

“You certainly have an eye for detail,” Julian added. “Something else you two have in common, eh?” 

Damian and Julian both laughed. But Damian’s laugh had a lightness to it. He sounded almost relieved. That just made Julian’s own heart feel lighter. For that one, brief instant, the shadow of the palace and the life Damian would have to lead seemed so far away that it could have been from another world. 

Then Damian’s stomach rumbled. And he instantly tried to hide his blush. That only made Julian laugh even harder. Something so mundane was hardly what one would expect from the crown prince. 

“Is all the excitement of the market wearing you down?” Julian teased. “Or did the Historical Society forget to feed you?” 

“Oh, they remembered,” Damian sighed. “But there was far more conversation than food.” 

“I know what you mean,” Julian chuckled. “Perhaps we should be heading back. Unless you’d rather stay, of course, but the Queen won’t be too happy if you’re running late...” 

Not that Julian didn’t wish they could stay out a little longer. But he knew that Damian would want to go back. After all, there was still so much to do. 

But, much to Julian’s surprise, Damian shook his head. 

“I think we have time to stop for something small,” said Damian. He turned back to Meleia. “You said something about pumpkin bread?"

“Oh!” Meleia’s eyes widened. “Right. I can show you where the stall is. We’d better hurry if we want to grab some before they close up.” 

“Lead the way,” said Damian. 

Still looking somewhat overwhelmed, Meleia lead them through a winding path opposite of where Julian had first taken Damian. Forge followed diligently at Meleia’s heels, occasionally sniffing the air. Oswald had settled back into Damian’s pocket, but he stuck his head out to sniff the air as well. Julian couldn’t blame them: even to his human nose was starting to pick up the intricate spices. 

“Am I wrong, or do I detect a bit more than simple pumpkin?” said Julian. 

Meleia nodded. “It’s the spices that make it really amazing. No one can make bread like Selasi.” 

“Selasi?” Julian asked. 

Meleia blinked up at him, surprised. “The baker? Who runs the stall?” 

“Ah,” said Julian awkwardly. He felt his blush creeping up again. “Of course. Should have been obvious, I suppose...” 

“You mean you’ve never been to his stall before?” Meleia asked. 

“Nnnnnoooot really, no,” Julian admitted. 

Damian raised an eyebrow. His lips quirked into a little half-smile. 

“I’m surprised,” said Damian. “You’ve been going on about showing me all the best sights. Not to mention your rather eclectic history. I’d thought you’d been everywhere by now.” 

“Apparently not,” said Julian, flushing a little deeper. 

“It’s alright,” said Meleia. “It’s never really been all that popular. Kind of a city secret, you know? But he has a few regulars. He’s not in any danger of... well. Closing down.” 

She gave Damian a rather guilty look. Forge must have noticed her distress, since he pressed himself against her leg almost like a dog. 

Julian found himself glancing at Damian again as well. He thought he knew exactly how the prince would handle hearing about his kingdom’s financial state again. Damian would be upset, of course, but he would try to hide it with a steady expression and a reassuring statement. 

“That’s good to hear,” said Damian. “Hopefully every other stall in the market will have a steady income soon.” 

Julian’s glance turned more sympathetic. Sure enough, Damian’s tone was completely level, not even betraying the slightest hint of emotion. It was a tone that the prince had perfected after years of practice. Julian had never been particularly fond of it. It meant that Damian was hiding his pain. 

Meleia must have sensed something behind Damian’s words, too. She let out a low sigh. 

“It takes a lot of work, doesn’t it?” she murmured. “To make sure everything is--”

She was interrupted by a startled shriek. Oswald burst into the air so quickly that his wings batted against Damian’s face. 

“Oswald, what--?” Damian spluttered. 

His answer came in the form of the all-too-familiar barks of a hunting hound. A very specific hunting hound. Even Julian had heard that particular bray so many times that he’d recognize it in an instant. 

Melchior. Somehow, one of Lucio’s hounds had found them. 

The sound of Melchior’s barks sent Oswald into a frenzy. Screeching madly, he flew off into the bustle of the market as fast as his wings could carry him. 

“Oswald!” Damian cried. 

He started to lurch after him. Julian automatically reached out a hand, though whether he wanted to haul him back or just make sure he didn’t lose sight of him, even Julian wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. Damian was forced to screech to a halt as he almost tripped over Forge. 

The fox had dashed out from between Meleia’s legs. With a yelp that sounded almost dismayed, he chased after his new bat friend. 

“Forge!” Meleia cried. 

She raced off, barely managing to skirt around the crowd as she tried to catch up to her fox. In an instant, she had completely vanished into the chaos... along with both of the animals.

Damian lurched forward, attempting to go after them. Julian sprang into action as well. He was ready to jump in and protect Damian whenever he needed to. 

But Damian didn’t get very far. 

Melchior burst into the street. The hound barreled through every obstacle, shoving people and crates and anything else in his way with equal abandon. Damian was no exception. 

Melchior slammed into Damian’s legs, sending the prince careening off-balance. He toppled backwards, arms flailing uselessly as he tried in vain to straighten up. He was headed straight for a rickety old fruit cart tucked on the side of the road. Damian squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for the inevitable collision. 

Julian didn’t think. He just moved. 

“Watch out!”

Julian threw himself between the prince and the cart, catching Damian just before he hit. Damian thudded against his chest. The sudden weight made Julian stumble. He managed to control his fall, steering away from the cart. An _ oof _ of pain burst out of his lungs as he hit the ground hard, still clinging onto Damian. Julian very nearly got the wind knocked out of him, and most of his weight had managed to land on one shoulder, but Julian hardly cared. All that mattered was whether or not Damian was safe. 

He pulled back just enough to get a good look at the prince’s face. Difficult, considering Damian’s back was still pressed against his chest. 

“Damian,” Julian breathed. “Are you al--” 

Something creaked above him. Julian glanced up... and his eyes instantly widened. 

“Ooooohhh no,” Julian groaned. 

He hadn’t managed to steer them as far away from the fruit cart as he’d hoped. One of them must have kicked it. Probably Julian himself, knowing his luck. The entire thing was about to come down. The mound of fruit rumbled ominously. A single apple tumbled from the pile, bouncing against Julian’s foot. 

“This is going to hurt,” Julian muttered. “Hold on!” 

He twisted around, rolling them both over until he was shielding Damian with his body. Wood crashed and splintered as the cart tipped, dumping its contents onto the street... and onto Julian. Julian let out another _ oof _ as the entire pile tumbled off of the cart, slamming into his back. By the feel of it, several of the fruits splatted against him, completely destroyed. He was very grateful that there didn’t seem to be any watermelons.

The chaos lasted for only a few moments. When Julian was sure everything was clear, he shot to his feet. He grabbed Damian’s arms and hauled him upright. Damian wobbled a bit, off-balance from the sudden shift in stance. Julian grabbed his shoulders, both steadying him and giving him a once-over. 

“Are you alright?” Julian asked breathlessly. “Nothing hit you, did it?”

At a glance, Damian _ looked _ well enough. His coat was a mess, though. Julian automatically started dusting off Damian’s clothes. If that coat was ruined-- Damian’s _ favorite _coat-- Julian wouldn’t forgive himself.

Who was he kidding? He wouldn’t forgive himself for this whole mess, anyway. 

“No, nothing hit me,” said Damian. “I’m perfectly fine. But... Julian, you...” 

“Good, good...” Julian muttered. He’d barely even heard Damian, utterly distracted by making sure the prince wasn’t hurt. Then he fully registered the real damage they had caused. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

“Look at this mess...” Julian groaned. “I suppose I’m buying a fruit stand today, aren’t I?” 

“That’s not what I--”

“Not to worry,” said Julian quickly, cutting Damian off before he could make some gallant offer or other. “I’ll take care of it.” 

Julian stepped over to the fruit stand and turned on the charm, speaking with the very harried-looking vendor. The vendor was wonderfully understanding after a handful of gold was exchanged. That done, Julian helped set the cart back up. Naturally, that left the mess of fruit still scattered across the streets. Julian had the perfect solution to that. 

A rather sizable crowd had gathered, gawking at the commotion. And crowds were Julian’s specialty. 

He gestured grandly to the mess, as though it were the finest treasure in the world. 

“Free fruit, everyone!” he called. 

The crowd immediately swarmed, all chatting merrily. They didn’t seem to mind that the fruit had gotten a bit bruised. Julian considered himself lucky to have the freedom to give that much. He probably would have given that much, anyway, but at least he didn’t have to worry about snatching any for himself or Pasha. 

Though he did still need to worry about Damian. The prince was attempting to vanish into the crowd, pulling his hood over his head. It was hard to tell since the hood cast Damian’s face in shadow, but Julian swore he saw Damian blushing.

Julian instantly started panicking again. What if Damian really _ had _ been hurt, and was simply hiding it? It would have been Julian’s fault. Maybe he hadn’t been fast enough. He shouldn’t have let that cart fall at all... 

In moments, the street was completely cleared of stray fruit. The crowd started to disperse, nearly sweeping Damian up with it. Julian grabbed Damian’s hand and yanked him out of the throng, dragging him to the closest side street. 

“Now, I know you said you were fine,” said Julian breathlessly, “but let me take a look at you.” 

“Julian...” 

“Nothing broken?” Julian asked, inspecting Damian’s arm. “Everything where it should be?” 

Damian tossed his hood back off. He looked his tutor right in the eye. 

“_ Julian. _” 

Damian’s stern tone made Julian stop short. “What is it? What’s wrong?” 

“_ Nothing, _” Damian insisted. “I’m not hurt. But, Julian, you shouldn’t have--” 

“Of course I should have,” said Julian. 

Damian lurched back a bit, startled. Julian stopped short for a moment, rather startled himself. He hadn’t really meant to say that out loud. Not like that. 

“Julian, what are you...?” 

“I... I don’t want you to get hurt, Damian,” Julian admitted. “Far better I get crushed by a rampaging stampede of falling fruit than you.” 

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Why? Because I’m the prince? Or because I’m too much of a clumsy disaster to handle myself?”

The idea that Julian thought Damian incapable of handling himself was so foreign to Julian that it took him a full three seconds to process it. 

“Wha--no!” Julian blurted out. “It isn’t... it’s because you’re my...” He cut himself off before he said something he might regret, changing tactics as best as he could. “You’re my _ friend. _ If I let anything happen to you on my watch, I...” 

Damian sighed. “It seems a lot has been happening to me already. You shouldn’t have to get in trouble for my sake.” 

Julian flashed him a grin. He could only hope that the smile didn’t look as forced as it felt. 

“I was made for trouble, Damian.” Julian tried to keep his voice light, playful. He wasn’t sure how well it worked. “And like I said... much better if I take the hit than you do.” 

“And when you need help?” Damian demanded. “If you find trouble you can’t get out of?”

To Julian’s surprise, Damian looked almost... angry. Something in Julian’s gut lurched unpleasantly. But he forced a shrug. 

“As long as I don’t drag anyone down with me...” 

“You’re just going to drag yourself out?” Damian snapped. “What if it’s worse than a fruit cart next time?” 

Julian’s reply was instant. “I’ll still be there to help you.” 

Damian sighed. “That’s not my point. What if I don’t want to see anything happen to _ you? _” 

For a moment, Julian could only stare at the prince. Damian... wanted to protect _ him? _ But no, that was all wrong. Julian had to take care of _ Damian. _ That was how things went. That was half the reason he’d agreed to be the royal tutor. The other, of course, being how much he loved to work with Damian, how much joy he found in simply watching the prince make discovery after discovery. It was an absolute dream come true, working alongside Damian, discussing everything from simple math equations to foreign politics to ways to help the city prosper. 

And since it seemed that dream was about to break down into a harsh reality, Julian prised those moments more than ever. 

He knew full well how much Damian was giving up for the sake of his kingdom. Julian wasn’t going to stop him from doing that, as much as a part of him may have wanted to. As much as it hurt to know that, someday soon, he might have to face the idea of Damian leaving. Forever. 

But he couldn’t say any of that aloud. Not with Damian looking at him like that. So he cleared his throat, forcing his into something more neutral. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said lightly. “Just doing my job.” 

Damian took a half step forward, reaching out for Julian. “Julian, it’s not--” 

“Well.” Julian took that same half-step back, awkwardly clapping his hands together. He couldn’t let this go on. They didn’t have time to waste, and there were still a hundred problems left to fix. 

At least Julian might be able to find a solution to _ one _ of them.

“Let’s see if we can find Oswald, shall we?” he suggested. 

Without another word, he stepped back into the streets, striding purposefully in the vague direction that the animals had probably gone. For a moment, Julian couldn’t hear Damian’s footsteps behind him. Julian almost turned, almost tried to face him again. But then he sensed more than heard Damian start to follow. 

Julian probably should have been relieved. It seemed Damian wasn’t angry at him. And they were both relatively unscathed from their brush with fruit-flavored disaster. 

But all Julian felt was the sense that everything was coming to an end. 


	9. Always Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which more animal shenanigans ensue.

Unbeknownst to Damian, Melchior hadn’t actually followed his commands when the prince had sent him out of the carriage where he had finally, _ finally _ pinned down Oswald. True, Melchior had headed _ towards _ the palace, but the hound would only truly obey his master Lucio. Melchior was far from stupid. He knew he had to at least _ pretend _ to listen to the Prince to avoid trouble. But as intelligent as he was, he could certainly hold a grudge. 

So he was patient. He waited. 

The hound spent a few hours sniffing around the castle, searching for the perfect opportunity. 

That bat always managed to trick him and his sister both. And the filthy thing always got away with it, being the prince’s pampered pet. Melchior was far from tired of it. If only there were a way to corner that bat away from all the annoying humans who would interfere... but the prince always left Oswald behind when he went on a long journey. 

Still, Melchior was determined. He _ would _ get Oswald, no matter what it took. He’d been humiliated far too many times. 

Then, at last, Melchior got his lucky break. A carriage was being prepared again. Which meant the prince was leaving. And judging by the unmistakable scent, the bat was going with him. 

Melchior tried to sneak into the carriage, but he was quickly shooed away by the fire-haired human, the one that Lucio always called Jules. Melchior couldn’t directly disobey a friend of his master. So it looked like he wouldn’t be getting to the bat so easily. 

Fine. If he couldn’t get inside the carriage, he would simply track it. 

Once Melchior started tracking a scent, absolutely nothing could stand in his way. Especially when the trail wasn’t very strong. All of his focus was put into hunting down his prey. He barely even registered the new smells as a strange carriage rolled into the palace grounds. He wasn’t even distracted by the distinct scent of reptile... and wolf. 

Well, he was distracted for a split second. A part of him wanted to chase these new animals down. But no, he had another quarry at the moment. He could always deal with those other potential threats later. If Mercedes didn’t get to them first. 

Right then, the only thing stopping him from mauling that bat was the fact that horses traveled far faster than he could. But he didn’t care how long it took. Not when he would finally be able to put that rat with wings in his place. 

_ Melchior _ was the true alpha around here. 

Melchior was thrown off only once more, just when he reached the city. He was momentarily overwhelmed by the rush of humans and all the new sights and smells. But it wasn’t his first time on the Vesuvian streets. Lucio had brought both him and Mercedes on trips. They usually went to a building called a shop, which Melchior only knew as the place that couldn’t go into. Lucio always came out of that shop with either new clothes or some sour-smelling drink in fancy bottles. 

As it was, it didn’t take too long for Melchior to separate the important sounds and smells from the unimportant ones. And when he finally got the bat’s scent again, nothing could get in his way. 

Braying in victory, Melchior charged through the streets. He caught the barest glimpse of the prince and Julies and a new human before he saw the bat take to the air. Melchior chased after him, fangs bared, hackles raised. 

_ Away! AWAY! _ Oswald shrieked, terrified. 

_ No escape! _ Melchior snarled. 

And there_ was _ no escape. Not for the bat. 

Tiny, pitiful Oswald had to flap madly, dodging stalls and crates and humans... and occasionally the humans that screamed in terror and tried to knock him out of the sky. 

Melchior had no such problems. He simply knocked all of his obstacles over. 

The wild chase led them to a series of buildings all packed tightly together. The bat slipped into a narrow alley. He was forced to screech to a halt. He was surrounded by walls on three sides, all too high to really fly over. The only path out to the streets was quickly blocked by Melchior. 

If dogs could laugh, Melchior would have. He had to settle for wagging his tail. Which did absolutely nothing to make him look any less intimidating. 

_ Can’t fly away, _ Melchior growled. _ Where’s your master now? _

For one beautiful, glorious second, the bat actually looked terrified. Melchior’s fangs flashed. This was what he had been waiting for. 

Then Oswald ruffled his wings. And his beady eyes turned sharp, disdainful. 

Melchior hated that look more than anything in the world. 

_ Your master’s not here, either, _ Oswald huffed. _ Nobody to rescue the poor little puppy. _

Mechior barked so furiously that he was nearly foaming at the mouth. 

_ I AM NOT A PUPPY! _

He lunged. Oswald tried to shoot upward like he always did at the palace, but Melchior was too quick. In an instant, he would _ finally _ have that at in his jaws. 

Then something slammed into his side. Melchior was knocked off course, shoved just enough for the bat to escape. 

Melchior scrambled quickly to his feet. He whipped around, growling ferociously at whatever had dared to interfere with his hunt. 

He stopped short, utterly surprised. A tiny, pale fox with ears bigger than its head was standing there, hovering protectively over Oswald. Its fur was puffed up in terror. But it was still trying to glare at Melchior. 

Melchior had never seen anything so pathetic-looking in his life. 

_ What’s this thing? _ he growled. 

The fox’s fur somehow got even puffier. But the fox didn’t move. 

_ Go away, _ the fox growled. 

Melchior huffed. The rush of air from his nose made the fox’s fur flatten out. 

_ I’m not going anywhere, _ Melchior snarled. _ My hunt. My prey. _

_ My friend, _ the fox replied. _ Go away. _

Melchior bared his fangs. _ No. _

He lunged, ready to bite off the fox’s puny head. But the fox was surprisingly quick. It leaped straight up into the air and bounced on Melchior’s snout like it was a springboard. 

Melchior yelped, head jerking up in surprise. The fox was flung higher into the air. It flailed around, claws extended in sheer panic. Then it landed on Melchior’s back... and dug its claws in for purchase. 

Melchoir howled in surprise and pain. He thrashed around, trying to shake the fox off of his back. But that only make the fox cling tighter. 

Melchior had been a hunting hound for as long as he could remember. But he’d never faced anything like _ this. _ He was both confused and a little afraid. But still he fought. He tried to snap at the fox, but his teeth only closed on open air. It was nearly impossible for him to reach his back at all, let alone something clinging wildly to it. But he kept trying. 

Oswald used the moment that Melchior was distracted to jump into the fray. He flapped right into Melchior’s face, batting at the hound with his wings. Melchior reared back, snarling. 

_ Get off! _he growled. 

The fox just clung on tighter. Oswald veered away for a moment, only to flap in again at another angle. This time the bat’s wings clipped Melchior’s nose. Melchior huffed, more surprised than hurt. 

_ What are you doing? _ Melchior snarled. 

_ Helping my friend! _ Oswald screeched back. 

Melchior had had enough of this. He shook himself even more violently than before, almost the way he did whenever he got wet. At last, the fox could no longer hold on. It went flying, crashing to the ground. Oswald hovered anxiously in the air, clearly lost as to what to do. The bat didn’t dare get too close, staying just out of Melchior’s range. 

Fine. Melchior would just get rid of the intruder first. 

_ You’re mine! _ Melchior barked. 

He lunged, claws out, teeth flashing. 

And the fox leaped out of the way. Melchior slammed right into the wall. 

He let out a yelp that was far too pathetic to be allowed. He was instantly overwhelmed with shame. Not only had the pathetic bat managed to best him _ again, _ but so had this random fox that was no bigger than a chew toy. 

And, to add insult to injury, both fox and bat looked absolutely smug. The fox’s tongue was lolling happily, more like a puppy than any of the foxes Melchior had hunted. And the bat was quite literally flying circles around him. 

Melchior whirled on them, growling even louder than before. 

_ You’ll pay. _

Oswald settled on the ground beside his new fox friend. If bats could smirk, Oswald was certainly doing so now. 

_ You’ll be in trouble when you get home, _ Oswald chirped. 

Melchior stiffened. His head tilted the slightest bit, betraying his confusion. 

_ You have mud all over your back, _ Oswald told him. 

For a split second, Melchior froze. He was overwhelmed with sheer horror.

Lucio _ hated _ it when he tracked mud in. Especially if it meant the mud would get on his master’s clothes. 

He spared the bat one last growl. 

_ Next time, _ he snarled, _ nobody will save you _. 

With that, he turned tail and dashed back toward the palace. He hoped he would find a way to clean himself up before his master found out. 

\---------

As soon as Melchior fled, tail between his legs, Oswald turned to Forge. His brand new friend had really come through in a pinch. 

_ Thank you, _ said Oswald. 

Forge cocked his head, his ears flopping. _ Why? _

_ You saved me, _ Oswald replied. 

Forge shook himself, making his fur puff up again. _ Sure. Always help friend. _

For a moment, Oswald wondered why Forge wasn’t as good at communication as he was, but he supposed it had something to do with growing up in the city instead of the palace. Then again, Melchior and Mercedes had never been the best at communication, either. So he let it slide. 

_ How did you know he hated mud? _ Oswald asked. 

_ Didn’t. _ Forge scratched at his ear, unabashed. 

It was Oswald’s turn to cock his head. _ You didn’t? Why did you jump on him? _

Forge gave Oswald an odd look as he put his paw back down, apparently finished scratching. 

_ Always help friend, _ he repeated. 

Oswald stared at him for a moment, surprised. Forge had jumped into danger without any idea what he was doing, just to help out. 

Before Oswald could ask any more, a familiar voice cut through. A pair of familiar voices. And Oswald was scooped up into his master’s arms. 

No, not his master. His best friend. Even if Damian was human, he was always there for Oswald. 

Oswald thought he could learn a thing or two from Forge. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna be honest, I went back and forth so much on what to do with all the Familiars. Especially considering the Animal Sidekicks in the movie. I think it turned out okay, though. 
> 
> Oswald is adorable, that is all. Shout out to my sister for giving the little bat the perfect name!


	10. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a Prince and a Shopkeep continue to have a lot of feelings.

_ “There _ you are!” Meleia cried in relief. She scooped Forge off the ground, quick to huddle him in her arms. 

At the exact same instant, Damian did the same with Oswald. He even said the same thing she had, with the same tone of voice. 

The two of them looked up at each other with identical expressions of surprise. Then they laughed. Just another thing they had in common. 

“It looks like everyone’s safe,” said Meleia, nuzzling up to Forge as he rubbed up against her cheek. 

“Seems so,” Damian agreed, gently petting Oswald’s head as the bat once again snuggled into his pocket. 

“Wonder what happened,” Meleia mused. She inspected Forge, making sure he wasn’t hurt. 

Damian sighed. “I’m fairly sure that  _ Melchior _ happened.” 

Meleia blinked. “What?” 

“That white dog that barreled past us?” said Damian. “I think it was Melchior.” 

“You  _ know _ that dog?” said Meleia. 

Damian pulled a face, as though he regretted ever saying anything. 

“He’s a hunting hound,” Damian explained. “Lives in the palace, most of the time.” 

Julian piped up then, making Meleia jump. She hadn’t even noticed he was there. But he was right by Damian’s side, looking a bit disheveled. 

“One of the Count’s dogs,” Julian added. “He has a pair of them. Usually they’re very well-behaved, but...” 

Damian scoffed. Meleia considered that a rather un-princely sound, especially considering how bitter he sounded. But, then again, she’d never met a prince before. And Damian seemed determined to not let his royal status stand in his way. He was out here, mingling with the commoners as though he were one of them, despite everything that might have happened to him if his family found out. He’d taken the chance to do something he really wanted, even though he had so many responsibilities to return to. Meleia had to admire that. 

She only wished she could have as much courage. 

Then again, Damian knew who he was. Meleia didn’t have even  _ that _ luxury. 

“They’re only well-behaved when their dear master is around,” said Damian coolly. “And Melchior in particular seems to have it out for Oswald.” 

“Poor Oswald,” Meleia murmured. 

She stopped petting Forge for the moment-- much to his dismay-- and leaned a little closer to Oswald. The little bat seemed alright, though he was fussing a bit as he tried to find the most comfortable position to settle into Damian’s pocket. 

“I can’t even count the number of times he’s had to fly to me to avoid that hound,” Damian sighed. 

“Seems he got himself out of trouble on his own, this time,” said Julian. 

He pressed close to Damian on the pretext of inspecting Oswald as well. But Meleia couldn’t help but notice exactly how close he was getting. Nor could she miss the look on his face. 

Julian wasn’t worried about Oswald. Not really. 

Meleia’s lips twitched into something like a half smile. The two seemed so comfortable around each other. She wondered what it must have been like, to have someone you could completely be yourself around. No judgement. No holding things back. No worrying about keeping a straight face when things were getting harder and harder by the day. 

It must have been wonderful. 

Damian shot Julian an amused sort of glance. Then he looked at Meleia again. 

“Something funny?” he asked. 

Meleia blinked, jolted back to reality. 

“What?” she blurted out. “I mean, no. Nothing, really.” 

Damian chuckled. “Lost in thought? Where did you go?” 

“Nowhere?” said Meleia, confused. 

“He was wondering what you were thinking about,” Julian translated. “Imagining what must have happened after Oswald and your little friend dashed off, weren’t you? I know I would love to hear  _ that _ story. Shame animals can’t talk...” 

Forge growled a bit, somehow sounding offended. 

“Forge does have a tendency to find trouble,” Meleia admitted. 

Forge looked even more offended than before. Meleia could easily imagine the fox complaining that none of the trouble he’d found himself in was really his fault. She knew it was nonsense, of course, and that animals really  _ couldn’t _ speak, but the look on his face was unmistakable. 

“Perhaps he actively chases after it,” Damian suggested with a laugh. “He  _ did _ rush after a madly braying hunting hound that’s more than three times his size.” 

That made Meleia, chuckle, too. “I think he was chasing Oswald.” 

“Eager to dive in and assist his new friend?” said Julian with a grin. “It seems we have quite the dashing hero on our hands.” 

Forge lifted his head a bit, looking proud. 

Meleia hummed thoughtfully. “Well, he  _ does _ have a habit of ending up places he shouldn’t... but running right into danger... I don’t know...” 

“Anyone who would willingly chase Melchior down is fairly heroic in my book,” Damian laughed. 

Meleia smiled. She tried to hide her flush by burying her face in Forge’s fur. “I guess so. He’s always been there when  _ I _ needed him.” 

“They say any animal ends up taking on a few of its human’s traits,” said Damian thoughtfully. “I wonder what that says about you, Meleia? It sounds like you’re always willing to help those in need, as well.” 

“I... I try,” said Meleia shyly. 

Julian cleared his throat. “Well, as much as I hate to break up the party, I should go fetch the carriage. We really should be heading back to the palace soon, Your Highness.” 

Damian frowned at the title, but he nodded nonetheless. “You’re right. I’ll bet the ambassador is already here.” 

Julian’s visible eye widened at the thought. “I’ll be fast, then.” 

With that, he dashed out of the alley and back into the streets. 

“I hope he doesn’t get lost,” said Meleia, worried. 

Damian’s frown vanished. He stared after Julian with a fond sort of look. 

“He may not look like it, but he really does know his way around,” said Damian. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Then, suddenly, he glanced back at Meleia. “What about you?” 

Meleia jumped. “What about me what?” 

“Will you be alright?” asked Damian. “I know you got into a bit of trouble over by the fountain...” 

Meleia almost laughed. What Valerius had said at the fountain had been the  _ last _ thing on her mind. 

“I’ll be fine,” she promised. 

Damian looked like he doubted it. 

“Well, if you’re sure...” he said slowly. “You know you can always let us know if you need anything.” 

Meleia shook her head. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t just impose on the  _ palace... _ ” 

“It’s our duty to help the people of Vesuvia,” said Damian. 

_ Now _ he sounded exactly like a prince. 

“I know I can’t solve every single problem,” said Damian, sounding very much like he wanted to solve every single problem, “but I want to help where I can. If you ever need me, just let someone at the palace know. I’ll even give your name to the guards, if you’d like.” 

Meleia’s face instantly turned tomato-red. “Oh, no, please, you don’t have to do that. I don’t... I shouldn’t be going to the palace, anyway.” 

Damian’s eyes lit with mischief. “Not even to sing for us?” 

_ That _ made Meleia fall very quiet very quickly. 

Damian laughed. “I told you I wanted you to perform at the palace, didn’t I? And I meant it. It might not be right away, but... I’ll be sure to send someone for you.” 

“You will?” Meleia asked breathlessly. 

“I will,” Damian promised. 

Meleia wished she could say more. She wanted to thank him for everything he’d done, and everything he was so willing to do. It was likely that the prince would never know how much even the  _ offer _ meant to her. 

But at that moment, a distinctly impressive-looking carriage rumbled onto the street. Meleia distinctly heard several people gasping and muttering in awe. It was understandable: Meleia wasn’t even sure how that thing  _ fit _ on the narrow road. 

Julian had opened the door before the carriage even fully stopped. He leaned out, one hand gripping the doorframe, the other extended towards Damian. He was the picture of a dashing rogue. Meleia was absolutely certain now that she must have seen him on stage. He certainly would fit right in there. 

“Your chariot, Your Highness,” said Julian grandly. 

Damian shook his head, though he still looked rather amused. 

He took Julian’s proffered hand and stepped up into the carriage. After being grandly guided to his seat by his tutor, he shot Meleia another smile through the window. 

“I really  _ will _ send someone for you,” said Damian. “If I don’t come myself.” 

Meleia managed a halfhearted smile. It would be wonderful to see Damian again, to spend some more time just relaxing together. But she knew that his life was about to change. And it was quite possible that soon he wouldn’t have any time for much of anything. Definitely not a little, all-but-nameless shopkeep. 

“I’ll be here,” said Meleia. 

Damian nodded. “I’ll see you soon, Meleia. I won’t forget about today.” 

“Me neither,” said Meleia, absolutely sure it was true. 

Julian gave her a rakish bow. “Until we meet again, milady.” 

Meleia laughed. But something in her heart ached, as well. 

She wasn’t a milady. She wasn’t... well, anyone. But she managed a clumsy curtsey back, playing along. 

Apparently satisfied, Julian closed the door, taking his seat across from the prince. In a moment, the carriage had vanished, heading swiftly back towards the palace. 

Meleia let out a long, low sigh. It really was getting late. And she was bound to be in trouble if she didn’t get back to the shop before Valerius did. 

“Come on, Forge,” she said gently. “Let’s go.” 

She turned to leave. But Forge struggled in her arms, still trying to see the carriage. 

“I know,” Meleia murmured. “I’ll miss our new friends, too.” 

Forge slumped, his ears drooping. But he stopped trying to make a grand escape. 

Meleia heaved another sigh. She thought she knew exactly how Forge must have felt. 

She just had to hope that Damian wouldn’t forget. That maybe, just maybe, she might actually get a chance to make her dreams come true. 

She still had Volta’s debt to worry about, of course. But if the palace paid her enough... 

Well. She would have to worry about that when it happened. 

The prince had made a promise. But she had her own promises to keep. 


	11. Vanishing Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which emotions go crazy and a plan starts to unfold.

“I know that look, Damian.” 

Damian blinked. He’d been staring out the carriage window without truly seeing anything. He looked up to find Julian smirking at him. 

“Hmm?” Damian mumbled. 

Julian’s smirk only widened. “I thought so. Where did you go?” 

Damian snorted. Of _ course _ Julian would tease him for his own phrase. 

“I don’t think I ever left the city,” Damian replied. 

“Ah.” Julian’s smile faltered. “I should have known...” 

“Do you really think the Majestro will arrive tomorrow?” Damian asked. 

He knew it was abrupt. He knew it seemed to come out of nowhere. But now that he had neither the marvels of the market nor Meleia’s fun, albeit awkward, conversation to distract him, all of his worries had flooded back to him tenfold. 

It was foolish, but he couldn’t help being a little jealous of Meleia. She knew exactly what she wanted, and she had the opportunity to get it. Damian would be happy to help, of course. She’d been so kind to him, offering to show him around, and actually being willing to talk to him as a person instead of a prince. So it was really the least he could do. And, as he’d told her, it was little more than his job. 

Now more than ever, Damian understood what was truly at stake. People were already suffering. _ His _ people. Damian couldn’t let that happen anymore. He had to make sure his kingdom prospered again. 

Still. He couldn’t stop thinking about how much it might cost him. 

About one potential cost in particular. 

All of that managed to whirl around his head while Julian hummed in his own thought. 

“It’s, ah, it’s hard to say,” Julian muttered. “According to the letters to the Queen, he should be. Though it is a rather long journey, as far as I’m aware... he must have left just after his ambassador did.” 

Damian managed a noncommittal hum, just to show he was listening. 

Julian looked at him for a long moment. 

“That bad?” he asked. 

Damian couldn’t say a word. But the look on his face must have been all the answer that Julian needed. The tutor shifted a little closer to Damian and took off his eyepatch. He blinked in the sudden light for a moment. When at last Julian spoke again, his tone was far quieter than usual. 

“You don’t have to go through with this,” said Julian. “You could call this all off.” 

Damian shook his head. “I can’t. You _ know _ I can’t.” 

“I do,” Julian sighed. “But... I... I hate seeing you like this. I hate seeing you forced into something you don’t want to do.” 

“We don’t have much choice,” said Damian. “Besides, I already agreed to it.”

“Damian...” 

“I _ will _ keep my promise, Julian,” Damian said firmly. “I just hope...” 

He sighed. He didn’t really know _ what _ he hoped. 

In the end, he supposed he just hoped this would all _ work. _

“You hope...?” Julian prompted. 

Damian shook his head. “Never mind.” 

Damian half expected Julian to push him. But, then again, that wasn’t exactly the sort of thing Julian did on the best of days. Damian knew full well that Julian was never the type to push anyone. He’d rather take other people’s burdens onto his own shoulders than let them suffer. 

But now it was Damian’s turn to shoulder the weight of the kingdom. As it _ should _ have been. 

Neither of them spoke for a while after that. Even Oswald was completely silent, though he kept poking his head out of Damian’s pocket, trying to see out the window. 

Oswald must have missed his new friend. Damian wanted to reassure him, but he had no idea what to say. So he settled for a friendly pat on the head. Oswald snuggled into Damian’s hand. 

“We’re almost there,” Julian announced after a far too short moment. 

Damian held back one last sigh. He straightened up, squaring his shoulders. Oswald peeped a little bit from his pocket. Julian eyed him warily, as though worried that Damian might collapse at any moment. 

“What?” Damian asked self-consciously. 

Julian instantly looked away. He cleared his throat. “Nothing.” 

Damian knew exactly what that “nothing” meant. 

“I look horrible, don’t I?” Damian asked. “I must be a mess...” 

“It’s not all that bad,” said Julian, a shadow of his usual grin creeping up on him. “Tell you what. Why don’t I soften up the ambassador for you? You get changed.” 

Damian almost told him not to. Julian was just doing it again, adding more onto his own workload to make Damian’s life easier. But, at the moment, Julian had actually come up with a good plan. So Damian couldn’t protest. 

“Good idea,” Damian admitted. 

Their arrival back to the palace was far quieter than it had been when Damian had come back from his Historical Society speech. Damian certainly appreciated that. At least he was granted an extra moment of calm before facing the inevitable storm of discomfort. 

After getting freshened up, changing into something a bit more prince-like, and making sure Oswald was comfortably perched on his shoulder, Damian headed down to the dining hall. 

He was late for dinner. Of course. As though the universe hadn’t already dealt him a bad enough hand. 

Normally, Queen Nadia would most likely have said something about it. Probably some jab about wondering whether or not Damian would actually _ make _it to dinner. But maybe she was trying to be polite to their guest, or maybe Julian’s charms had worked on the queen as well, for Nadia only raised an eyebrow.

Julian himself was mid-story, regaling a pair of strangers with a tale that Damian had heard countless times before, but enjoyed every time. The fact that Julian was still wearing that ridiculous outfit that he’d worn to the market honestly added to the tale. Though Damian was glad that Julian had decided to leave the eyepatch behind. And not just because the eyepatch didn’t look remotely professional, or like anything that would be proper to wear in polite company. Damian simply liked the way Julian’s eyes sparkled when he told his stories. Especially the dramatic ones. 

Damian would have been perfectly content to hover in the doorway and listen to the rest of the story. But, of course, since Nadia had noticed him come in, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. 

“Forgive the interruption,” said Nadia, “but it seems my son has arrived at last.” 

The last thing Damian wanted to do was step all the way up to the immaculate dining table, despite how hungry he was. The food wasn’t the problem, of course... it seemed as delectable as always. No, naturally, the problem was the pair of strangers that got respectfully to their feet the moment they noticed Damian had arrived. One was significantly taller, and broader, with ragged black hair. He rather looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. Damian understood. The feeling was mutual. 

The other, though, was closer to Damian’s own height, and seemed to be in a much better mood. Their eyes sparkled with mischief as they smiled at Damian, dipping a slight bow. 

“Your Highness,” the stranger said softly. 

Damian nodded back, not sure what to say. 

Thankfully, Nadia stepped in right at that moment. “Damian, allow me to introduce the Ambassador of Zadith.” 

The white-haired ambassador looked up then, his smile only widening. Damian noticed with a start that the ambassador’s eyes were deep purple, a color he had never seen in Vesuvia. Those eyes seemed to study him with keen interest, almost as though he were a fascinating science project. 

Damian cleared his throat. He held out his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, ambassador...?” 

The ambassador laughed as he shook Damian’s hand. “Just ‘Ambassador’ is fine. Hardly anyone actually uses that title. I could get used to it.” 

The dark-haired man behind him-- who must have been the guard-- grumbled something that Damian couldn’t catch. But it just made the Ambassador laugh again. Damian couldn’t help but notice the Ambassador’s dimples. 

“You’ll have to forgive Muriel,” the Ambassador said lightly. “He’s an old friend of mine. He insisted on coming along.” 

That made Muriel grumble again. Which, apparently, didn’t faze the Ambassador in the slightest. 

“He’s not the best with meeting new people,” the Ambassador went on. “Neither am I, actually... if I ever do anything to offend, please let me know.” 

Damian smiled almost despite himself. “You seem to be doing fine so far.” 

“The Ambassador has been looking forward to meeting you,” Nadia cut in. “It seems he bears tidings from his Majestro.” 

Damian’s cheeks felt far too warm. He did everything he could to avoid meeting the Ambassador’s eyes... and somehow wound up looking right at Julian. Julian was hovering against the wall, practically bouncing with nervous energy as he watched the proceedings. He looked just as worried as Damian felt. 

“Well, it isn’t much, really,” said the Ambassador. 

Damian looked up, startled at his tone. The Ambassador looked almost... embarrassed. 

Damian felt like he should say something to reassure him. So he tried his best. 

“I’m sure it’s wonderful,” he said. “Majestro Asra always sends spectacular gifts.” 

The Ambassador laughed, still sounding rather flustered. “I only hope this lives up to your expectations. And your praise.” 

With a bow, he offered Damian a box just about the size of the palm of Damian’s hand. Damian was surprised for a moment that the box wasn’t wrapped, but of course it wouldn’t be. Not if the Ambassador had been carrying it himself. Still, the box itself was well-made, and carved from a type of wood that Damian had never seen. It was almost a gift in and of itself. Damian was tempted to ask about it, but that didn’t quite strike him as polite conversation. So he simply opened it.

Inside was an intricately designed brooch, the same kind one might pin to a cape or cloak. Its silver body twisted and curled in a delicate pattern, twining around shards of amber. 

“It’s beautiful,” said Damian, almost surprised. “The craftsmanship is incredible.” 

“The Majestro would have preferred to make something himself,” said the Ambassador, not meeting Damian’s eyes. 

Damian raised an eyebrow. “He’s a craftsman?”

“Not really,” the Ambassador shrugged. “Sort of an artist. Well, he dabbles, anyway. Something to do in his spare time.” 

Damian sensed something behind the Ambassador’s tone. It was something almost like longing. Damian got the sense that Majestro Asra enjoyed crafting as far more than just a distraction... perhaps even as much as Damian himself enjoyed alchemy.

The Ambassador, apparently noticing that Damian wasn’t about to say anything more, rambled on rather awkwardly. 

“But he hadn’t met you yet, so... _ hasn’t _ ,” the Ambassador quickly corrected himself. “He _ hasn’t _ met you, and he does like to personalize his gifts. I’m certain he hopes it’s... passable.” 

“Far more than that,” said Damian. “I really mean it, it’s very well made.”

“It’s meant to bring good luck,” said the Ambassador, flushing once again. 

“A very thoughtful gift,” Nadia cut in. “It matches your eyes, Damian.” 

Damian took another look at it. He’d never considered his eyes looking like amber, but the Ambassador seemed to agree. He beamed, looking almost proud. 

“I’m guessing the amber was your suggestion?” said Damian. 

The Ambassador laughed. “I admit I _ did _ pick this one out.” 

For some strange reason, that comment made Muriel glare at him. The Ambassador was either oblivious or completely unaffected. Damian did his best to keep his cool as well. 

“You have good taste, Ambassador,” said Damian. 

“Not half as good as Her Majesty’s,” the Ambassador replied, bowing to the Queen. 

“A very high compliment,” said Nadia. “You wouldn’t be attempting flattery, now, would you, Ambassador?” 

The Ambassador shook his head, though his almost playful smile never faltered. 

“I mean every word, Your Majesty,” said the Ambassador. 

That smile of his made Damian unsure whether or not the Ambassador were being completely honest. Though Damian may have just been slightly paranoid, considering what the Ambassador’s arrival meant for him. 

“Well then,” Nadia’s own smile was rather knowing. “How very kind of you.” 

Before anyone could say anything else, servants swept into the room. The first course was instantly cleared from the table and replaced with the second. Portia even personally refilled Nadia’s glass. 

“It seems we’ve dallied a bit too long,” said Nadia, lips twitching with humor. “Damian, Ambassador, won’t you have a seat?” 

Damian’s gaze scanned the table. There were several empty seats, of course. The table was designed to serve far more than four people. But one place setting was notably empty. 

“Where’s Count Lucio?” Damian blurted out. 

The mood in the room soured. The Ambassador in particular looked a bit... well, Damian wouldn’t quite describe him as _ upset _, but he seemed to close off a bit. Muriel, once again, shifted uncomfortably. 

“Forgive me,” said Damian quickly. “That came off as a bit rude, didn’t it? I just thought he might be joining us. I had thought he would be eager for a palace meal after returning from his journey.”

The Ambassador’s eyebrows went up curiously at that remark. 

“Does he travel often?” the Ambassador asked. 

“Fairly often,” said Nadia, unfazed. “To answer your question, Damian, Count Lucio had something rather urgent come up as well.” She gave a humorless smile. “It seems everyone is running quite frantic lately... I must apologize, Ambassador. I do hope we haven’t caused any undue stress.” 

“Not at all,” said the Ambassador. He gave Damaian a sidelong glance. Damian must have looked utterly lost, because the Ambassador added: “I’ve met the Count, actually. His presence is very... noticeable.” 

Damian couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter. “I’ve never heard truer words, Ambassador.” 

The Ambassador’s expression softened. “His golden arm alone is hard to miss.” 

“Also true,” said Damian, still nearly snickering. 

“I have to admit, I’m curious about it,” said the Ambassador. “I never got the chance to ask the Count himself. That arm of his is powered through alchemy, isn’t it?” 

Damian’s interest was officially piqued. 

“You study alchemy?” he asked. 

The Ambassador shook his head. “The Majestro’s parents do. They’re the finest alchemists I’ve ever met. Though I... may be a little biased. I haven’t met many alchemists.” 

“It seems you’ve just met another one,” said Nadia, beaming with obvious pride.

“I dabble, anyway,” said Damian with a slight smirk. “Something to do in my spare time.” 

For a moment, the Ambassador looked stunned. Then he burst out laughing. The sound took Damian by surprise. It was so open, so pure. Almost like a child in sheer wonder. 

“Then you’ll have to meet the Majestro’s parents someday,” the Ambassador chuckled when he could breathe again. “I’ll bet you’ll have a lot to talk about.” 

Damian’s spirits instantly plummeted. He hadn’t even met the Majestro yet, and he was already invited to meet the parents. 

“I’m sure we will,” he said slowly. 

“I’ll bet they’d have a few things to discuss with that Count as well,” said the Ambassador, his expression once again hardening slightly. “I’m just surprised you didn’t ask about him earlier, Your Highness. If you were looking for him.” 

“Not _ looking _, exactly,” said Damian. He hoped his tone didn’t betray any of the relief he felt now that he knew Lucio wouldn’t be involved in this whole ordeal. “I simply ran into one of his hounds while I was on my... errand. I was wondering if they had been reunited. That’s all.” 

“Your concern is touching, Damian,” said Nadia. 

“It seems everyone in Vesuvia has great respect for animals,” the Ambassador piped up. The look on his face was softer again. 

“Damian _ has _ always been fond of them,” said Nadia pointedly. 

Damian tried to look anywhere but at the Ambassador. This was awkward enough _ without _ the Queen constantly trying to set him up with the Majestro. As though Damian hadn’t already agreed to all of this. As though he hadn’t already promised he’d do whatever it took to save his kingdom.

At least the Ambassador had the decency to look almost as uncomfortable about the whole thing. 

“Now, I suggest we eat,” said Nadia after a slightly awkward pause. “We wouldn’t want all of the cook’s work to go to waste.” 

Damian sat, almost listlessly picking up his fork. The Ambassador waited for him to get settled before taking his own seat. 

And just like that, yet another Official Royal Dinner began. Damian had to hold back the umpteenth sigh of the week. He was sure that this one would be just as stiff and dull all of the other meals that he had shared with important figures. 

To Damian’s relief, the Ambassador was surprisingly good company. It was very quickly made clear that the Ambassador had traveled to many other kingdoms besides Vesuvia. Even Julian, who had somehow managed to make himself one of the servers, was drawn in to his stories. Eventually, Damian didn’t feel so nervous about asking the Ambassador about how the gift box had been made. That sparked an entire conversation about different types of trees and plant life, with Nadia often referring to Portia and her work on the palace gardens. 

“I don’t believe you’ve had the chance to see the hedge maze, yet,” said Nadia. “It’s truly delightful.”

She shot Portia a grateful sort of look. Portia laughed. 

“I can’t exactly take credit for that one, Milad-- ah, Your Majesty,” she said brightly as she refilled Nadia’s goblet. “The maze has been part of the palace _ way _ longer than I have.” 

“And yet the idea to add the hydrangeas was all yours,” said Nadia fondly. 

Portia flushed a bit. “Just thought they would look nice.” 

“They certainly do,” said Nadia. “I do believe it may be my favorite part of the gardens. It certainly adds a bit of life to the rather ominous maze.” 

The Ambassador inclined his head toward the Queen, echoing her smile. “Sounds like I’ll have to try this maze out for myself, then. And I’m sure the Majestro will love it. I can almost guarantee that his snake will find several little spots to sunbathe, or trees to dangle on.” 

Damian paled a bit. “I’d heard the Majestro had a snake. Does he truly travel with it everywhere?” 

He didn’t even notice it, but his hand went up to where Oswald was perched. The bat was happily eating a piece of fruit, oblivious to everything around him. Damian, on the other hand, was so utterly wrapped up in concern that he didn’t notice how Oswald had managed to take so big a bite that his cheeks puffed up like a squirrel. 

The Ambassador laughed. “Don’t worry. She’s completely housebroken. And she only eats mice. And eggs. Though she does keep trying to go after anything that smells particularly tasty. I remember once she tried to get a scrap of bread and--”

“You sound like you’ve taken care of her yourself,” said Damian, hardly aware he’d just interrupted an official royal visitor. “Does the Majestro let you watch his snake often?” 

“More often than you might think,” said the Ambassador, mischief shining in his eyes again. 

Damian couldn’t help but feel that he was missing some elaborate joke. Besides the fact that the Ambassador was clearly enjoying being vague, Muriel had shifted again, almost glaring at the Ambassador. That movement nearly made Damian jump: he’d almost forgotten the guard was even there. Muriel had an odd way of blending into the background. 

Damian couldn’t help but hope that _ all _ the royal guards weren’t as quiet as Muriel. Not that he had anything against Muriel, not at all. Even Nadia seemed to enjoy Muriel’s company. She was proving the best at getting him to join a conversation, however briefly. But the idea of a handful of Muriel’s following Damian wherever he went was more than a little unnerving.

Damian also sincerely hoped that being purposefully, teasingly vague wasn’t something he would be expected to pick up when all was said and done. The Ambassador, at least, had that particular skill down to an artform. It was equal parts fascinating and infuriating. 

Still, they were an interesting pair. A vanishing guard and a mischievous Ambassador. If this was fairly normal for Zadith, Damian certainly wouldn’t be bored. 

A part of him, however distant, hoped that the Majestro would end up being at least a _ little _ bit like the Ambassador. He certainly felt he could at least be _ friends _ with the Ambassador. It would be a miracle if he could say the same for Majestro Asra. 

If nothing else-- and there was a whole lot of _ else _\-- he wouldn’t know what to do if he had to spend the rest of his life with someone he couldn’t even befriend. 

Though the thought of actually leaving Vesuvia was a bit too much to contemplate. Which, of course, meant it was instantly the only thing Damian could think about. Especially whenever he happened to glance up at Julian, or the Queen, or even overhear her lighthearted banter with Portia. 

There would be so much he would miss. And even if the Majestro allowed him to stay, or stayed in Vesuvia with him-- which was an idea that he had trouble wrapping his head around-- Damian wasn’t sure if the Palace would feel like home anymore. Not after such an enormous change. 

He couldn’t decide which of those two options was a more daunting, terrifying idea. He had no idea what would happen if the Majestro decided to stay. He had even less of a clue what he might find if he had to leave and stay in Zadith. And the idea of going back and forth... it was almost impossible to picture. Damian had always wanted to travel, but he’d always thought that his first big journey would be for exploration, or for some diplomatic endeavor. Not for... well. For _ whatever _ this all was. 

It was all too much. He spent the rest of dinner completely overwhelmed. And he excused himself as quickly as possible. The instant he could, he returned back to his room. He changed into something more appropriate for alchemy, absently shoving the gift that the Ambassador had given him into his pocket. He made sure Oswald was settled on one of his perches. And he threw himself into his research again. 

At least he would be able to find some answers to the question of the fast-growing crystal. Even if nothing else in the world seemed to have an answer at the moment. 

Even if a part of him, no matter how small, was wondering if the Majestro would have any interest in this project whatsoever. 

He didn’t know when he fell asleep. All he was aware of was waking up to Oswald’s shrieks. 

Damian jolted up, nearly falling out of his chair. It took him a moment to reorient himself, to realize that he’d fallen asleep on his desk, using an open book as a pillow. For a moment, that alone threw him. He _ never _ treated books like that. Then what he’d been doing before he fell asleep rushed back to him. The alchemy project. Had he spilled everything again? 

After a split second of utter panic, he let out a sigh of relief. No, it was fine. Though it didn’t look like he had to ration the Dhakharian snow silver a little better if he wanted to keep this up. He picked the bottle up to inspect it. 

Then Oswald shrieked again. 

It sounded far off. Damian automatically looked around. Oswald wasn’t on any of his perches. And there was no evidence he’d tried to make a cave out of Damian’s blankets again. 

Faintly, he heard the bat shriek again. Damian searched harder. He didn’t find anything. 

Oswald wasn’t in the room. At all. 

Another shriek. And Damian heard the panic behind it. 

“Oswald?” he called automatically. “Something wrong?” 

Of course, Oswald only let out another shriek. 

A shriek that _ really _ sounded far away. 

Damian’s feet were moving before he’d even made the conscious decision to run out of the room. He absently shoved the bottle of snow silver in his pocket as he dashed down the hall. 

“Oswald!” he shouted. “Where are you?” 

He’d never wished he could talk to animals more than he did right at that moment. He could hear Oswald’s cries. They sounded like a shout for help. But the only information he could glean from that was that Oswald was somewhere outside. Probably. 

He had to find him. 

It must have been incredibly late. No one was out and about. Damian didn’t even pass any guards. 

At last, Damian burst out the main entrance. He stumbled out into the courtyard where carriages usually stopped. 

But there weren’t any carriages out there tonight. For a moment, Damian didn’t see anything at all. He was starting to lose hope. 

Then he heard Oswald again. The bat’s shrieks had turned even more desperate. Damian followed the sound. And he gasped, eyes wide. 

Oswald was locked inside an old, half-broken crate. It was just secure enough to hold the little bat, but enough gaps were left for Damian to see Oswald’s face. The bat looked absolutely terrified. 

“Oswald!” Damian gasped out. He dashed forward, reaching out to help. 

The bat shrieked again, a sound of pure alarm. Damian heard footsteps behind him, rushing toward him. 

He didn’t even have time to turn around. Something heavy slammed into the back of his head. The world erupted into a white haze. 

Then everything went black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, the chapter title doesn't match the best but I was proud of it and I couldn't think of anything better so... yeah.


	12. The Secret Plot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the animal shenanigans aren't nearly as funny.

Oswald had been wide awake when he watched his human fall asleep over his work desk. This was pretty typical, though Damian didn’t usually sleep at his book-and-shiny-things table. But Oswald had never understood how humans slept in such odd places and positions anyway, so he wasn’t particularly perturbed. 

And he certainly wasn’t bothered when he heard other humans wandering around outside. That happened often, too. He didn’t even realize that it normally didn’t happen so late at night, since despite living amongst humans his entire life, he had no real idea what their schedules were really like. They always seemed to be moving around, anyway. Especially Damian. Damian was constantly in and out of the palace, constantly doing one thing after another. 

Normally Oswald would have gone off to explore the palace or the gardens by now. But he kept thinking about what his new fox friend, Forge, had said. 

_ Always help friend. _ Not the best way to put it, sure, but an important statement nonetheless. 

Damian was always helping Oswald. But Oswald still couldn’t come up with a time that he’d really helped _ Damian. _

And Damian had seemed so sad lately. So lost. But Oswald didn’t know what to do. 

He dithered on his perch for a long while, trying to figure out how he could possibly help. But he was completely distracted when Damian’s door creaked open. And a rather large bouquet was flung into the room. 

Oswald’s ears twitched. Then his nose. Those flowers were absolutely brimming with nectar. And they smelled like orange blossoms. His favorite.

He knew that flowers didn’t just appear out of nowhere. And it made absolutely no sense that his favorite snack-- a snack that Damian usually saved for special occasions-- would fly in from the blue. 

But he was so completely preoccupied that he didn’t particularly care. A snack seemed like exactly what he needed. 

Without a second thought, he fluttered to the ground and went right for the blossoms. 

The blossoms jerked backwards, almost skipping away from him. 

Oswald sat there for a moment, confused. Flowers did not normally do that. 

But they smelled _ so delicious. _

The intoxicating scent lured him out the door. And down the hall. And all the way outside of the castle. 

And right into a trap. 

Before he was even fully aware of what was happening, walls sprang around him. He let out a squeak of terror as he was snapped into what must have been a cage. It was just barely big enough to hold him. He couldn’t even spread his wings. 

“Well, well, we caught him!” a voice cried. A voice that Oswald didn’t recognize. 

A man stepped up to the cage, towering over it. He was tall and thin and wrinkly, with wisps of gray hair tucked under a black hat. 

“We are finished now, yes?” said Wispy Man. “We can go back to our little hideaway?” 

“You _ idiot, _” another human snarled. 

The second human stepped up and lightly struck Wispy Man in the back of the head. This new human was all in red, with a hat that looked like beetle horns. 

“We caught the _ bat, _ ” Beetle Head snapped. “We’re _ trying _ to get the _ prince! _” 

“Then why did I spend so much time scrounging for apple blossoms in my gardens?” Wispy Man demanded. “My poor worms will go without those wonderful petals for so long...” 

“_ Enough _ with you and your worms!” Beetle Head hissed. They looked as though they wanted desperately to start yelling, but didn’t dare. 

Wispy Man quivered. “But...” 

“But _ nothing, _ ” Beetle Head growled. “Just shut up! And allow me to _ demonstrate _.” 

Beetle Head picked up Oswald’s cage. Oswald was justled unpleasantly, slamming into the cage walls. He let out a squeal. 

Beetle Head chuckled, flashing sharp-looking teeth. “Scared already? Perfect.” 

They shook the cage. Oswald was tossed helplessly around. He shrieked, trying everything he could to get help. To get _ Damian. _

After all that worry about helping his friend, Damian would have to come to his rescue again. Oswald would have felt guilty if he had any room left to feel anything but sheer terror.

Then he heard footsteps. And Damian’s voice. Damian was calling out to him, shouting his name. Oswald did the only thing he could think of. He shrieked again, replying in the only way he could. 

He should have realized that all he needed to do was stay quiet. He should have known it was a trap-- Wispy Man and Beetle Head had essentially _ said _ so. 

But all he could do was cry for help. 

And then Damian found him. And Damian rushed forward, ready to help. Like he always was. 

But the others were ready for _ him. _

The instant that they heard Damian getting closer, Beetle Head dropped the cage. It bounced, once again sending Oswald crashing against the walls. And Beetle Head dashed away, with Wispy Man quick to follow. 

They’d hidden in the shadows. Oswald knew exactly where the two dangerous humans were, of course. He was made for the night. But Damian wasn’t. He couldn’t get his bearings in the dark nearly as easily. And, on top of that, he was distracted and worried. He didn’t even check to see if anyone was around. All of his focus was entirely on Oswald. 

Only Oswald saw when Beetle Head snuck up behind Damian and struck him down. Damian let out a soft cry before crumpling to the floor. Oswald shrieked again, but Damian couldn’t hear. Oswald’s closest friend was unconscious before he’d hit the ground. 

Oswald’s cries were completely ignored. He could only watch as Damian’s arms and legs were tied. Only watch as he was dragged to a corner of the castle. Oswald flapped frantically in his cage, trying to break out, to catch someone else’s attention and get help, to do _ something. _ But the gray-haired man simply scooped the cage up and dashed after Beetle Head. 

They’d carried Damian to a secluded spot, where a rickety carriage sat waiting. A horse was already hitched and ready. Oswald _ knew _ that horse. It was Appleberry, one of Queen Nadia’s steeds. Oswald was instantly enveloped in panic. 

These humans hadn’t just kidnapped both him and the prince. They’d even taken one of the Queen’s prised horses. Which meant that they must have known a lot about the castle. No outsider would be able to do something like this. 

But Oswald still had no idea who they were. And even if he _ had _ known something more about them, there wouldn’t be any way he could tell the other humans. 

His best friend was in terrible danger, and there was absolutely nothing he could do. 

Beetle Head tossed Damian’s form into the carriage before all but shoving Wiry Man inside. Wiry Man scrambled to his seat, whispering feverishly about _ going _ , about getting _ out _of there. Beetle Head told him to shut up again, smacking Wiry Man once more for good measure before taking their spot at the driver’s seat. Wiry Man tried to argue again, but Beetle Head wasn’t going to hear it. Or maybe they were arguing about something else entirely. Oswald had stopped listening. He honestly didn’t care what they were saying anymore. He kept shrieking, hoping someone would hear him, would come investigate. But, as far as he could tell, the carriage windows were covered. So no one would see them even if they heard him.

Oswald very nearly didn’t care about that, either. He just wanted to get out. To find some way to make sure Damian would be okay. 

But Damian didn’t stir throughout the whole journey. 

At least, not as far as Oswald knew. They’d only traveled for a little while before Beetle Head started yelling again. 

_ “VLASTOMIL! _” they bellowed. 

Wispy Man-- who was probably this Vlasto-whatever-- jumped violently. Oswald’s head banged against the top of the cage. 

“What?” Vlasto-something squeaked. “What is it?” 

“Would you care to tell me _ why _ you haven’t gotten _ rid _ of that thing yet?” Beetle Head growled. 

“Th-the bat?” Vlasto-something stuttered. “But really, Vulgora, we have no reason to--”

“_ We have ‘no reason’ to KEEP IT AROUND!” _Beetle Head-- who was apparently Vulgora-- yelled so loudly that Oswald winced. 

Vlasto-whatever jumped again. Oswald was tossed helplessly for the umpteenth time. 

“Very well, very well!” Vlasto spluttered. “Now, please, Vulgora, pull over so that we may--” 

“No time!” Vulgora snapped. “Just toss it!” 

Vlasto gasped, utterly aghast. “Vulgora! I doubt either the prince or our boss will be happy if we harm the royal--”

Vulgora scoffed. “Not the _ cage, _ you idiot! It can fly! Let it flutter away or something, I don’t care!” 

“Y-yes!” Vlasto yelped. “Yes, yes, alright, but, _ please _, not so loud!” 

He put the cage on the seat next to him. Oswald pressed back, huddling against the wood, wings curled protectively around him. Vlasto started fiddling with the latch. His hands were shaking. 

Oswald thought he heard Vulgora mutter-- as close as someone who yelled nearly every sentence could mutter-- something like: “You always were too soft, Vlastomil. Like your stupid worms...” But that, of course, made absolutely no sense, so Oswald tried to focus on what he would do if Vlasto ever got his cage open. He could fly, true, but where? He couldn’t leave now, not when all he wanted was to help his best friend. 

That very same best who still lay slumped on the floor of the carriage, completely silent and still, with no one but Oswald to possibly help him. 

And helping him certainly didn’t seem possible. 

Oswald didn’t get much chance to contemplate it. The instant Vlasto got the cage open, he snatched Oswald up and sort of dropped him out the window. Oswald flailed wildly for a moment, trying to straighten himself out. At last, his wings caught the breeze. And he could think of nothing to do but follow the carriage. 

It was hard work. And the journey seemed terribly long. 

Then, at last, they screeched to a stop. Oswald still had no idea where they were. Even though he knew he was made for the night, he wasn’t used to places like this. He didn’t know what he was looking at, and even though he _ did _ recognize a few things, he couldn’t make out all that much. He could smell trees, though he didn’t recognize what kind they were. All he knew was that there was no fruit. Nor any flowers. For a split second he panicked, worried about finding something to eat. Then he remembered the horrible trouble they were actually in, and that he had absolutely no intention of staying here for long. 

But if Damian were stuck here... Oswald had to be by his side. Food or no food. 

Oswald wanted to play the same tricks on these humans as he had on Melchior. He wanted to buzz around them, clip them with his wings, and send them into a frenzy. Hopefully that frenzy would make them crash into each other or just generally cause enough chaos that they wouldn’t even notice if Damian woke up and managed to slip away. 

But Oswald knew better. These humans must have been smarter than Melchior or Mercedes. And they were certainly bigger, fiercer, and probably faster. If Oswald tried anything now... well. He didn’t want to imagine what might happen to him. Or to Damian. 

So as much as he hated it, he was forced to watch them haul Damian away and drag him into what looked like a rickety old cottage. And he was forced to Damian disappear. 

As soon as the door had closed behind the humans, Oswald fluttered closer. Even if he hadn’t he would have heard the commotion. There was a lot of scuffling. And shouting. And there were a few heavy thuds. And the slam of another door. 

What in the world was _ happening _ in there? 

Oswald was trying to find purchase on one of the boarded-up windows when Appleberry clopped up to him. The horse apparently didn’t even realize that he was taking the carriage with him. 

Appleberry let out a little huff. _ Hello. _

Oswald’s ears twitched. _ Hello. _

_ You followed me the whole time. _ Appleberry tilted his head. _ How come? Lots of hard work. _

Oswald spared the horse a glance before finally dangling from one of the boards in just the right position to peek through a tiny gap and into the window. 

_ My friend is in trouble, _ he answered. _ I had to help. _

Appleberry poked his nose closer, as though trying to look through the window, too.

_ Okay, _ said Appleberry. _ Help how? _

Oswald’s ears twitched again, this time more in irritation. _ I don’t know. Not yet. But I will. _

The bat’s frustration was growing by the instant. Not only was Appleberry asking rather distracting questions, but he couldn’t find Damian through the window. He couldn’t even _ hear _ him. He could only see the two other humans. Wispy Vlasto dithered in the corner, looking thoroughly put out. Beetle Head Vulgora was locking a heavy door. 

_ He must be in there. _ Oswald flapped back into the air, searching for a new window. 

Appleberry trotted after him. _ Where are you going? _

_ Looking for my human. _ Oswald didn’t even glance at Appleberry this time. 

_ Not looking for food? _ Appleberry let out another little whuff, not quite a snort. _ I’m looking for food. Like apples. Apples are tasty. I’m hungry. A lot of hard work. _

Oswald’s fur was practically prickling in adigation at this point. 

_ I can’t worry about food right now, _ he said. And, quite truly, he didn’t even recall worrying about that exact thing merely a moment before.

_ Why not? _ Appleberry asked. 

_ My friend might be badly hurt. _ Oswald had found a new window and hovered near it, trying to find Damian. _ Those humans did something to him. They took him away from home. And they might hurt him even more, soon. _

Appleberry tossed his head a bit, though he hardly looked concerned about Damian. Oswald barely noticed. He’d spotted a form pacing around the small room on the opposite side of the window. It was hard to tell, but he thought it was Damian. Oswald felt a flash of relief: at least Damian was well enough to be on his feet. A small blessing in this mess. 

_ The human’s boss won’t let anything bad happen, _ Appleberry said. 

Oswald was so surprised by this statement that he nearly plummeted out of the air. 

_ Boss? _ He flapped up to Appleberry, nearly landing on his nose. _ What human boss? _

Appleberry looked past Oswald, tilting his head toward something behind him. 

_ That human boss _. 

Oswald whipped behind Appleberry’s neck and tucked himself into his mane. He poked his head out just enough to watch as another horse cantered into the clearing. This horse was enormous, and pure white. And its rider was wearing white, with a long, red-lined cape. 

Oswald only knew one person who wore clothes like that. 

Count Lucio brushed a few leaves and twigs off his clothes before striding up to the cottage door. He stepped into a mud puddle on the way there. Mud squelched under his boot. He pouted at it for a moment, then stepped forward a little more carefully. The door flew open almost a split second after he knocked on it. Vulgora stood in the doorway, a wicked grin across their face. 

“Well?” Lucio demanded. 

“We’ve got him,” Vulgora sneered. 

“And he has no idea that I’m involved?” said Lucio testily. 

“Of course not,” Vulgora snapped, glaring at Lucio. 

“Good.” Lucio’s grin was nearly as wicked as Vulgora’s had been. 

“We’ve held up _ our _ end of the bargain,” Vulgora snapped. “ _ Again. _ So. When are _ you _ going to uphold _ yours _?” 

Lucio scoffed. “As if I haven’t done anything. Do you know how difficult it is to work right under Noddy’s nose? She’s too sharp for her own good, sometimes.” 

“Can’t be even close to as hard as, oh, say,_ kidnapping the prince and smuggling him out of the castle without the guards noticing! _” Vulgora growled. 

Lucio waved that comment away, his golden arm glinting in the starlight. 

“You’re an expert,” said Lucio blithely. “That’s why I trust you with this sort of thing.” 

Vulgora snarled. They opened their mouth, probably to yell again, but Lucio just kept talking. 

“Anyway, there’s been a slight delay in our plans,” said Lucio. “You may have to keep him longer than a day or so.” 

Vulgora’s frown only deepened. “How long?” 

Lucio heaved a dramatic sigh. “I can’t say. It may be as much as a week.” 

“A _ week _?” Vulgora snapped. 

“I know!” said Lucio, as though agreeing to Vulgora’s outburst. “I was _ going _ to tell noddy that a week wasn’t _ nearly _ enough time to plan a wedding, but you _ know _ how she gets about--”

“So we have to wait here, _ with _ the prince, who should wake up at any moment...” 

Vulgora’s cruel tone did nothing to stop a wave of relief from washing over Oswald. Damian wasn’t dead. He’d wake up soon. 

“...until the wedding is over?” Vulgora finished. 

“Until the wedding is _ cancelled, _ ” Luico corrected him. “Which, with _ my _ hard work and sheer charm, shouldn’t take long.” 

Vulgora scoffed. “What, are _ you _ going to flirt with the Majestro?” 

“The Majestro hasn’t even arrived yet,” said Lucio. “Only his silly little ambassador. Though, I must admit, that Ambassador _ is _ rather attractive...” 

Vulgora made a sound that was suspiciously like vomiting. 

“...you have no reason to worry,” Lucio went on. “I’m not one to give up so easily, you know. Nothing will distract me from my goal.” 

Vulgora looked utterly unconvinced. Apparently, Luico didn’t notice. 

“I’ll come back here when the time is right,” said Lucio. “And after I ‘rescue’ the prince... well.” He chuckled. “I suppose I’ll have to have to make sure those wedding decorations aren’t too tacky, won’t I? After all, Damian and I deserve the best for _ our _ wedding, don’t we?” 

Oswald let out a squeak of pure shock. Thankfully, Lucio didn’t hear. The Count had chosen that moment to let out a harsh, cruel laugh. 

Oswald shuddered. _ He’s even nastier than his dogs! _

_ I like it when he brings apples, _ said Appleberry, which was entirely unhelpful. 

Oswald ignored him. He waited until Lucio had mounted his steed and rode off. Vulgora had already closed the cottage door. Still, even though he knew that none of the humans would be looking for him, Oswald didn’t dare move until the hoofbeats of Lucio’s horse had faded completely out of earshot. 

_ Right. _ Oswald flicked his wings, gathering himself up. _ I have to find a way in there. My best friend needs me. _

Appleberry tilted his head, nearly knocking Oswald off. 

_ Door’s closed, _ said Appleberry. _ Window’s closed. Where are you going to go? _

Oswald, frustratingly, didn’t have an answer for that yet. He looked all around, trying to find a solution. 

Then he heard it. Damian’s voice. It was just a soft groan, Oswald would know the sound of his best friend’s voice anywhere. Even through boarded-up windows. 

Oswald instantly flapped back to one of those windows, the one where he had last spotted what he thought must have been Damian. The figure stirred. They sat up slowly, pressing a hand to the back of their head. The figure looked around... and their face turned towards the window. 

Oswald’s heart leaped. It really _ was _ Damian. He was awake. And he didn’t look too bad, all things considered. It wasn’t long before Damian got to his feet and started looking for a way out. Oswald watched as Damian pounded against his door, demanding to be let out. 

Of course, it was no use. The ones who had taken him weren’t going to set him free any time soon. 

Only then did Oswald fully understand how lucky he was. They could have gotten rid of him completely. Beetle Head had _ wanted _ to get rid of him. 

But he was here. He was alive. And Damian was in trouble. 

There had to be _ some _ way to help. 

Oswald’s search for a way in began anew, only this time he was far more determined. At last, he spotted it. The cottage had a chimney. And he couldn’t smell any smoke. 

_ There, _ said Oswald. 

_ Okay. _ Appleberry watched Oswald make his way up to the roof. _ Good luck _. 

_ Thank you, _ said Oswald. He was certainly going to need it. 

It felt like it took even more effort than following the carriage had. Oswald had never been the best at climbing high into the air. But, at last, he managed to reach the chimney. He perched on the edge and looked down. No fire, thankfully. But it was absolutely filthy. It seemed no one had cleaned the chimney in decades. 

Oh, well. Sometimes, a bat had to do what a bat had to do. 

He didn’t let himself think twice about it. He flapped his wings and dove right into the chimney. He could only hope that Damian would be waiting for him on the other side... and not one of those horrible kidnapping humans. Humans who, apparently, worked for Count Lucio. 

Oswald didn’t know what he could possibly do to stop this crazy plot. But he knew that Damian _ couldn’t _ marry Lucio. And he knew that, at the moment, he was the only one who knew what was going on. The only one who could even try to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, you can add "what fruit bats eat" to the list of "things I never expected to google." Oh, well. Not the weirdest thing I've had to search for a writing project.


	13. According to Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lucio is the worst

Count Lucio couldn’t help but grin as he strolled along the palace halls, his hounds at his heels. There had been a few slip-ups, but now everything was going perfectly according to plan. 

Naturally. His plan was flawless. Foolproof. It wouldn’t be long before he was sitting on the throne. 

No one in the palace would ever know that anything was amiss. Not as far as his own actions and whereabouts were concerned. He’d made up some excuse about an emergency in town so the Queen wouldn’t notice when he rushed off to meet with his cohorts. He had even gone into the town itself for a bit, and only half to ensure no one would be suspicious. He stopped by one of his favorite shops and had a lovely chat with an old friend. These particular chats tended to involve vintage wine, which his friend was always eager to provide. Lucio had shared a few of the details of his scheme with his friend, of course. Just in case. 

Then Lucio had gone on to inform his cohorts that his plot had to be set in motion quickly... and quietly. He was honestly rather impressed that Vulgora, as brilliant and wonderfully bloodthirsty as they were, had actually managed to succeed in the _ quiet _ part. But, then again, why wouldn’t they? Luico had promised them-- and Vlastomil-- a very large reward. Lucio knew all too well what lengths people would go to in order to get what they wanted. 

Himself included. 

After riding out into the old cabin that they had repurposed for his scheme and ensuring that everything was set, he had made his way back to the palace down an entirely different path. He had an excellent sense of direction, so there hadn’t been any fear of getting lost. The only thing that kept him from returning sooner was the fact that his steed kept getting distracted, naturally. Foolish horse. Still, it had been mildly annoying that he hadn’t really had time to make himself as presentable as he would have liked. A much longer bath would have been preferred, to get the smell of the forest off him, but he supposed he would have to make do. 

He’d tucked his mud-splattered boots and leaf-covered coat in a corner of the stables, leaving them for some servant or other to find. As long as the Queen didn’t see them, there would be no reason for her to suspect anything was amiss. That done, he’d rushed right back to his chambers, spending what little time he had before the palace started to fully awaken to tidy up both himself and his dogs. It seemed Melchior had gotten into a little mischief. By the way the hound had carried himself, it seemed that whatever prey he had been after had gotten away. 

Melchior had looked distinctly worried about that. Losing his quarry would normally be a great disappointment for Lucio. But the Count was in far too good of a mood to mind. 

What was one little escaped animal to the future king? 

After that, it was only a simple matter of sneaking into the prince’s chambers and placing the forged note on his desk. On top of the book that lay open on the table seemed a good, noticeable spot. 

All Lucio had to do now was wait. 

He was so excited, he was practically humming. 

His good mood doubled the moment he saw the first real evidence of his plan. After a magnificent breakfast, which Lucio spent highly entertained by the conversations between Nadia and the Ambassador from Zadith-- it would really be a shame to see the Ambassador go, he was quite clever and amusing-- the Queen was found roaming the hallways, calling Damian’s name. 

Lucio waited a few moments more, making sure that Nadia had time to grow properly concerned. Then he stepped up next to her, joining her in one of the halls. 

“My dear Noddy, is something troubling you?” he asked in his best gallant voice. 

Nadia gave him a sidelong glance. “Lucio. By any chance, have you seen Damian this morning?” 

“Why, no!” Lucio cried, his tone one of perfect shock. “Now that you mention it, I don’t believe he was at breakfast, either.” 

Nadia frowned, concerned. “No, he was not. I had thought he might have been catching up on some work with Julian, or perhaps on another errand, but Julian hasn’t seen him, either.” 

“Perhaps he overslept,” Lucio suggested. It was all he could do to contain his glee. 

Nadia’s frown only deepened. “That would be rather unusual for him... though I haven’t visited his chambers, yet. I do hope he isn’t feeling unwell...” 

“Well, sounds like we’d better go check, then,” said Lucio. 

Nadia didn’t waste another moment on words. Lucio couldn’t help but admire that about her. People of action were always so appealing. But he couldn’t afford to get distracted at the moment. He stayed right at Nadia’s heels, allowing her to believe he was just as worried about the prince’s wellbeing as she was. 

She hadn’t even stopped walking before she knocked elegantly on the prince’s door. 

“Damian?” she called. “Are you there? Is everything all right?” 

There was no answer. Naturally. Lucio quickly forced his face into an expression of concern. 

“Should we send someone in there to check on him?” Lucio asked. 

“I’ll see him myself,” Nadia declared. 

Carefully, she opened the door. It wasn’t locked. Lucio wondered for a split second if he _ should _ have found some way to lock it, just to add to the glorious illusion, but it didn’t seem to matter. Nadia swept into the room with only half of her usual grace and dignity. Which meant everything was certainly working. 

Nadia searched the vast chambers, sparing only glances at the stuffed bookshelves, the elegant trunks, the endless papers, the tapestries and portraits on the wall, and the lavish bed as she searched for the prince. Lucio stood in the doorway, trying-- and failing-- to stamp down his impatience. 

She’d looked at _ everything. _ But she hadn’t noticed the note. 

“I don’t understand,” Nadia said at last. She shook her head, expression one of clear distress. “Where could he have gone?” 

“Why, I have _ no _ idea,” said Lucio. 

He made a great show of stepping into the room and searching for himself. His dogs, quite helpfully, started sniffing around. Maybe they had picked up on Lucio’s intentions. Or maybe they just smelled something interesting. Probably the latter. Either way, Lucio had to hold back a grin as they added to the drama of the moment. 

At last, Lucio made his way to the desk. 

“Noddy!” he called, his tone almost sing-song. “I do believe I’ve found something.” 

He picked up the note and gallantly offered it to her. He even added a bow, just for the fun of it. Nadia’s hands trembled as she picked up the note. Her eyes widened at every word. 

“What is it?” Lucio asked, attempting to sound casual. “Any news?” 

“It... appears to be a note from Damian,” she said slowly. “It seems he’s... he’s run away.”

Lucio feigned a horrified gasp. His hounds whimpered convincingly at his feet. 

Nadia shook her head just slightly, the movement almost imperceptible. Her expression was completely frozen. 

“I... I don’t understand,” Nadia murmured again. “I had the feeling that all of this was a bit... _ overwhelming _ for him, but... to truly disappear like that...” 

For a split second, Lucio panicked. He hadn’t expected Noddy to doubt the letter. Not when it was so perfect, and so perfectly placed. Not when all the evidence pointed to it being true. They’d all seen how unhappy the prince was with this arrangement. Granted, Lucio hadn’t been in the palace all that often, but the rumors flew wildly. Damian wasn’t quite his usual self, to those who knew him. But for the Queen not to notice... that was unheard of. 

“I’m sure you’ve noticed it as well as I have,” Lucio said pointedly. “He has been acting a bit oddly lately.”

A flicker of doubt crossed Nadia’s face. “Things have been rather difficult, of late... still, this doesn’t seem like something Damian would ever do. Abandoning his kingdom? Entirely out of the question.”

“But he never seemed too happy to even meet the Majestro, did he?” Lucio pressed. 

Anger flashed in Nadia’s eyes. “Happy or not, he never showed any indication that he was unwilling.” 

Lucio had to hold back his own anger. Why did his darling Noddy _ insist _ on being so difficult? 

“I see no evidence to show he _ hasn’t _ left,” said Lucio. “If you’re suspecting foul play...” 

Nadia grimaced. “I certainly hope that isn’t the case. However... it does seem entirely possible...” 

Lucio’s fists clenched. This was not how Nadia was supposed to react. 

Then again, he might be able to use this doubt to his advantage. 

“It _ is _ simply a _ dreadful _ thought, isn’t it?” Lucio blurted out. “I can’t imagine why _ anyone _ would want to cause harm to our dear prince. He’s never caused any trouble. So considerate. So studious.” 

He glanced idly down at the other contents scattered across Damian’s desk. His nostrils flared in disgust at the sight of an odd plie of green goo. But there were a few crystals left over as well. Lucio lifted one up to the light, inspecting it. He couldn’t tell if it was valuable or not, but it certainly looked dazzling. He thought might want to add something like it to one of his ensembles. 

Nadia tossed the letter back onto the desk, making Lucio jerk back. 

“We _ must _ find him,” she declared. “He may be hurt.” 

She didn’t say _ or worse. _ But her tone perfectly implied it. Lucio pocketed the crystal and swept a bow, trying to hide his grin. 

“I’ll send out search parties at once,” said Lucio. “My very best soldiers will be scouring the land before lunch.” 

“In that case, I will join them,” said Nadia firmly. 

Lucio’s jaw dropped. Even Melchior yipped in surprise. He dashed after the Queen as she swept out of the room, practically barreling her way down the halls. Lucio scrambled to follow them. 

“Your Highness!” he called after her. “You _ have _ to reconsider. You can’t just--”

“My _ son _ is out there, most likely in a very dangerous situation,” Nadia snapped. “I refuse to sit idly by and allow whatever miscreants have caused this mess to go unpunished.” 

Lucio very nearly pointed out that she had no real need for this much venom over someone who wasn’t her son by blood, but he managed to bite that comment back. He had no desire to let that venom fly in his direction. 

“Of course not, Noddy,” he said instead, trying to placate her. “And I assure you, my men will not rest until Damian is found. Why, I will go out there myself, as time allows.” 

“Time is hardly on our side, Lucio,” said Nadia firmly. “We must send everyone we can spare. We must get Damian home.” 

“Noddy, darling, _ think _ for a moment,” Lucio pleaded. He was all but chasing her down at this point. “You can’t just barge out there!”

Nadia skewered him with a quick glare. 

“If you fear for my safety, Lucio, then I must assure you that I am quite capable of handling myself, should it come down to it,” she hissed. 

“Of course you are,” Lucio conceded. 

He wasn’t sure how true that would be, particularly on the battlefield, but he needed Nadia to take his side. And judging by the fact that she shot him yet another glare, he would have to work a lot harder to achieve that. 

“But you have other battles to worry about, don’t you?” he said quickly. “Far more important ones than taking down some nameless, no-account ruffians. Ruffians who may not exist, if I may say so, Your Majesty.” 

Nadia’s eyes flashed. “You seem rather insistent about all this. Are you implying that you believe Damian would truly abandon us?” 

“I’m... keeping the possibilities open,” Lucio floundered. 

Nadia scoffed. 

“_ And _ I am reminding you that you have other things that need your attention,” said Lucio quickly. 

Nadia crossed her arms. “And what, pray tell, might those be?” 

“Why, our noble guests need your assistance, of course,” said Lucio smoothly. “Without Prince Damian here to discuss... you know... all of those things that need to be discussed... well, I’m sure things aren’t going to go exactly as planned, are they?” 

For a moment, Nadia looked like she was going to keep arguing. Her eyes were absolutely burning with an odd combination of fury, defiance, and desperation. It was very clear what she wanted to do. She wanted to leap into action. To ensure that the prince was safe. To take care of this task on her own. 

As though she weren’t already dealing with countless queenly duties. As though it weren’t a horrible idea to abandon all these projects that she’d just been so concerned that Damian might have abandoned. 

Lucio would _ never _ behave like that when he became the ruler of Vesuvia. No. He would let _ other _ people worry about those incredibly concerning projects. Perhaps even Nadia. After all, why would he deprive someone of the opportunity to use their skill set, however odd that skill set might seem? 

Then Nadia’s shoulders slumped, which was an incredible show of weakness for her. And she let out a sigh. 

“You’re right,” she said reluctantly. “I must attend to my guests.”

Lucio inclined his head, his bow much smaller this time. “Of course.” 

“It seems I have little choice but to leave the search up to you.” Nadia sighed. 

She looked nothing short of despondent. If she were anyone but the Queen, Lucio thought she might have slumped against the wall. 

“I will do everything in my power to ensure that the prince is returned home safely,” Lucio promised. 

His tone was utterly sincere. After all, it wasn’t a lie. He had absolutely every intention of bringing Damian back to the palace. When the moment was right. 

And then. Oh, and _ then. _ Everything would truly fall into place. 

But Nadia couldn’t possibly know that. 

She managed a weak sort of smile. She straightened her shoulders. When she looked at Lucio again, her expression was slightly softer. 

“Please forgive my outburst,” she said, a bit more quietly than before. “I allowed my emotions to get the better of me.” 

“And who wouldn’t, in a situation like this?” said Lucio. 

He was particularly proud of that line. He thought it was the best thing he could have said at that moment, and it was entirely improvised. Perhaps he should try out a stint at the theater. He always did enjoy a good spectacle. 

“I suppose we all would.” Nadia managed a faint smile. “I suppose I must thank you, Lucio. I admit, at times I wonder what would become of this palace without you.” 

Lucio couldn’t hold it back this time. A smirk stretched across his lips. 

“What indeed?” he sneered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gods I swear I re-wrote this like five times... it's a challenge to balance the somewhat more suave Preminger with the absolutle toddler Lucio. Also Nadia is a LOT smarter than the Queen in the movie. Oh well.


	14. Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Julian panics but eventually comes up with a plan.

Julian started panicking right at the beginning of breakfast. 

Damian had never come down from his room since he excused himself at the end of dinner last night. At first, Julian tried to quell his high emotions. But even busying himself with preparing for Damian’s upcoming math lessons-- and subsequently wondering if he would ever be able to give _ any _ lessons to Damian again after all this was over-- didn’t remotely help him stop worrying. 

“It’s fine,” he muttered absently to himself as he sorted books. “He must have overslept, that’s all. Probably overworked himself. I’ll bet anything he went right back to his alchemy project the moment he could. Maybe Oswald’s even napping on his head. I should... I should get snacks! For the lesson! He’ll be hungry after missing breakfast...” 

His sister got the brunt of his worries when she tried to shoo him out of the kitchens. Her concerned expression when he told her why he was trying to get into the kitchens in the first place had the same effect as popping the cork from an overflowing bottle. 

He poured everything out on her. How he hadn’t seen Damian since last night. How he kept trying to convince himself that everything was fine, but he couldn’t. 

He expected Portia to reassure him. Or distract him. Or _ something. _ She’d always been good at cheering people up. But her words had the exact opposite effect. 

“I know,” she said. 

Julian stopped short mid-rant. “You... you do?” 

“Milady’s been pacing the entire palace,” said Portia, her hands wringing nervously as she thought about the Queen’s concern. “I’ve never seen her so worked up...” 

It was a testament to how close Portia was with the Queen that she was even allowed to _ call _ her “milady.” So it was no surprise that Portia would be one of the first to notice how upset Nadia was. 

But none of that was exactly at the top of Julian’s “things to worry about” list. 

“So... so she hasn’t seen him, either?” Julian asked. 

Portia shook her head. “No. She’s been asking around, but...” 

She let herself trail off. She didn’t even need to finish her sentence. 

No one else had seen Damian, either. 

Julian instantly abandoned his quest for a mid-lesson snack for Damian and went on a new hunt. He tried to find the Prince himself. 

At first, he kept it simple. Maybe he was already on his way to lessons. Maybe he’d found a way to get to the library without disturbing anyone, which didn’t seem too outlandish. Damian wasn’t prone to making a scene, and while he’d seemed surprisingly comfortable at dinner, Julian couldn’t imagine that Damian wanted to spend any more time with the Ambassador than he had to. 

But Damian never arrived at the library. And Julian couldn’t find the prince in any of his usual hiding spots. 

It seemed Julian wasn’t the only one searching. The Queen herself asked if Julian had seen the prince, and he was forced to admit that he hadn’t. After that, it took less than an hour before the palace fell into an absolute frenzy. Word had spread fast, thanks in no small part to servant gossip. 

Prince Damian was missing. 

No one seemed to know why. Some declared he had run away. Some thought it was something more sinister. The word _ kidnapped _ was whispered through the halls and hidden passageways, but no one quite dared to say it aloud. Especially not anywhere near the Queen. 

Everyone felt horrible for Queen Nadia. All of this, on top of the strain she already had to carry... it was too much for anyone. But still she carried it, and with dignity and grace besides. At first glance, she might not have seemed bothered at all, though everyone in the palace knew better. 

But Nadia’s visible concern was absolutely nothing compared to Julian’s. 

He was leaning far more towards the _ something more sinister had happened _ end of the scale. He simply couldn’t imagine anything else. No matter how much he wanted to. 

He knew how smart Damian was. How he could always find a way out, always find a solution, even when the problem seemed impossible. Damian’s stubborn streak wouldn’t allow him to do anything else. 

It was that exact same stubborn streak that made Julian absolutely sure that Damian hadn’t just run away. If Damian was convinced that marrying the Majestro was the only way to save his kingdom, then he was going to make it happen. Even if it meant doing something he very clearly didn’t want to do. 

Julian knew full well how reluctant Damian was to go through with this. But _ reluctant _ didn’t mean _ ready to run._

Damian wouldn’t do that. Ever. 

So what in the world had _ happened? _

The question ran over and over again in Julian’s mind. But he never got any closer to finding any answers. 

After some more anxious wandering, he spotted Portia escorting the Ambassador and his guard to the parlor. Julian followed. He wasn’t sure what he hoped to find. Nor did he know what he thought might happen. A part of him wanted to try to find a moment to talk to his sister as quietly as possible, to see if she’d heard anything about what was going on. A different part of him was rather morbidly curious to see what the Ambassador might do in this situation. Still another part of him thought that following the royal guests might lead him to Queen Nadia. Maybe, just maybe, she might be able to offer a little insight. Or he might be able to offer her a little reassurance. 

At the moment, anything might help. 

The parlor was just as warm and inviting as ever, which seemed rather out-of-place to Julian. His world had turned so completely chaotic so quickly that seeing the room so elegant and tidy made him distinctly fidgety. Not that anyone seemed to notice. Queen Nadia and Count Lucio were already in the parlor by the time Julian slipped in. Nadia sat in one of the plush chairs, so lost in thought that she hardly seemed to register her guests. Lucio stood by the fireplace, his dogs sitting loyally at his heels. 

Portia hurried to pour some tea for Nadia. Lucio watched the entire proceedings rather impatiently. His eyes kept darting around the room, glancing between the Ambassador and the Queen as though watching some kind of twisted tournament. 

The Ambassador’s expression was nearly as concerned as the Queen’s. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “Portia seemed upset when she brought us here...” 

Nadia allowed herself the slightest sigh. “Unfortunately, yes. It seems we are in a rather complicated situation at the moment.” 

“Apparently, our dear Prince Damian has run away,” Lucio cut in. 

Nadia shot him a glare so fierce that Julian was surprised the Count didn’t drop dead on the spot. 

The Ambassador’s concern only grew. 

“Run away?” he repeated. “From what?” 

“According to what little true evidence we found, it appears he was feeling... overwhelmed by recent events,” said Nadia carefully. 

“What evidence?” Julian all but demanded, the words out of his mouth before he’d even realized he’d spoken. 

Everyone in the room jumped. All eyes instantly turned to Julian. 

Julian hastily bowed, trying to cover up his mistake. 

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” said Julian. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. But if I can help in any way...” 

Nadia considered him for a split second. Then she nodded. 

“Of course,” she agreed. “Your insight may prove quite helpful.” 

Julian straightened up. He didn’t really know how helpful he could be, but he was determined to try. 

“Ambassador, Lord Muriel, I believe you have already met Julian?” said Nadia. “He has been Prince Damian’s tutor for several years, now. The two know each other quite well. It’s possible Julian will be able to assist us with the situation at hand.” 

Julian bowed again, though he couldn’t help but notice how distinctly uncomfortable being called “Lord Muriel” made the guard look. 

“Now, Julian,” Nadia went on, “do you believe that Damian would willingly flee from the palace?” 

“Not for a moment,” said Julian, adding a belated “Your Majesty.” 

“I _ did _ mention that the letter might have been a setup,” Lucio cut in. He strode forward, instantly commanding the attention of the room. “However, thus far my soldiers have found no sign of a struggle. And his little bat’s missing too. If the Prince were taken by force, I doubt he would have gotten the chance to take his pet with him.” 

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Julian protested. “Damian would _ never _ abandon his people.” 

Lucio heaved a sigh. “I don’t want to believe it, either! But the note was very clear.” 

Julian stepped forward, meeting Lucio’s cold eyes. 

“Could I take a look at that note of yours?”

Julian tried to keep his tone calm, but he wasn’t sure how well that worked. He held out a hand, silently demanding Lucio hand the note over. Lucio frowned, but he didn’t protest. 

“Here.” He flicked the note at Julian. 

Julian just barely managed to catch it. He hastily read through it, though he barely took in the words. He instantly recognized something was wrong. He looked through it again, just in case. This time, he tried to actually read what the note itself said, but it was admittedly hard to concentrate. Julian’s thoughts were still scattered, scrambled with worry. And the Count was still talking. When Count Lucio was talking, he simply didn’t allow himself to be ignored. 

“Of course, if there really _ has _ been some horrible foul play, dear Noddy, my offer to lead the search teams myself still stands,” Lucio rambled on. 

Julian barely managed to hold back a glare as he looked up at the Count. Lucio seemed very eager to help locate the Prince. A bit _ too _ eager. Especially considering how often Damian tended to go out of his way to avoid interacting with the Count at all. It was possible that Lucio was just an idiot who couldn’t take the hint that Damian hated his guts. But there could have been something more to it. Julian had certainly never seen Lucio _ volunteer _ for work. Not work that actually mattered, anyway. 

“Where did you find this note?” Julian asked suspiciously. 

Lucio waved the question away. His golden arm gleamed, as usual... and yet Julian couldn’t help but notice that, somehow, it didn’t seem as highly polished as it normally did. 

“On the prince’s desk,” said Lucio flippantly. “He left it for the Queen.” 

“Did he?” Julian’s tone was cold. 

“I certainly can’t imagine anyone else having easy access to his chambers...” said Nadia slowly. She almost sounded hesitant. 

“Unless whatever happened to Damian was an inside job,” Julian cut in.

He didn’t quite dare say what he had discovered aloud. But it was clear. The note was a far bigger clue than the Queen may have realized. 

Julian knew Damian’s handwriting very well by now. He would have been able to recognize it in an instant. 

The Prince hadn’t written this note. 

Someone had forged it. It was a fairly good forgery, granted, one that might pass a simple glance. The Queen may have taken it at face value in her distress. But Lucio was supposed to be better at investigating things than that. And the fact that the Count kept waving that note around was _ incredibly _ suspicious. 

Lucio’s frown was almost identical to a child’s pout. Julian simply met his eye head-on. Neither of them were willing to give an inch. 

“Gentlemen,” Nadia cut in. “I assure you, this posturing is doing very little to solve our current dilemma.” 

Portia stepped up, then, after remaining so silent and unnoticeable that she had nearly been a part of the wall. She grabbed her brother’s sleeve and dragged him backwards, out of Lucio’s way. 

“In other words,” she hissed at Julian, “now is _ not _ the time to be a complete idiot.” 

In any other circumstance, Julian would have made some sort of quip about how every moment was the perfect time to be a complete idiot, particularly when said idiot was him. But there were a thousand other things on his mind. A hundred different questions that pointed to only a few answers.

Most of which cast the Count in a very suspicious light. 

The Ambassador watched Portia drag Julian away, eyes wide. Then he seemed to accept the insanity that was happening all around him. He turned his attention back to Nadia. 

“It all seems very serious,” he said, eyes full of concern. “We could reschedule our discussions if--” 

“No.” Nadia straightened up, forcing her shoulders back. “After you have travelled all this way, Ambassador, I simply refuse to abandon these discussions.” 

“We’re not abandoning them,” the Ambassador said quickly. “Just... postponing them. If the prince truly did feel overwhelmed, it might be better to take things more slowly.” 

“We haven’t confirmed anything about Damian’s... situation,” said Nadia, her tone faltering only slightly. “As concerned as I am for his wellbeing, the Count has assured me that, for the moment, the best way I can assist is to carry out his work.” 

Julian glanced at Lucio. He looked absolutely smug. 

The Ambassador, on the other hand, looked completely unconvinced. 

“And you trust his judgement?” he asked. 

“Completely,” said Nadia instantly. “I have never had reason to do otherwise.” 

The Ambassador’s expression became distant, closed. He studied Lucio for a moment more. Then he let out a slight sigh. 

“I understand,” he said slowly. “In that case, since you insist... allow me to assist in the search. I would be happy to help you in any way I can.” 

Nadia shook her head. “I couldn’t ask you to add more to what I’m sure is an already difficult workload. You are our honored guest. I wouldn’t want the Majestro to think that both his own representatives and all of the hard work he has already done should be cast aside because of an internal affair.” 

“I’m sure the Majestro would understand,” said the Ambassador. “It’s an emergency, after all.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” said Nadia, somehow managing to keep her tone cool. “Still, we have other pressing matters to concern ourselves with.” 

“The union of our kingdoms?” the Ambassador. “Not to sound too insistent, but... I know that things like that can wait.” 

Lucio scoffed. “I doubt the Majestro will feel the same way. He seemed very eager to get this all done. Just one glance at the huge pile of letters he sent our dear Noddy, and you’ll see--”

“I know how many letters the Queen has exchanged with Zadith. The Ambassador’s tone was surprisingly cold. “And I am absolutely certain that the Majestro will be able to wait a little longer before everything’s settled. Besides, I’m sure he’d be willing to lend a hand as well. When he arrives, of course,” he added almost nervously. 

Muriel cleared his throat. The Ambassador shot him a crooked sort of smile, which was probably supposed to be reassuring. But neither of them pressed the matter.

“What _ touching _ concern,” Lucio drawled. “But you really should leave the searching to me and my soldiers. I know the city like the back of my hand. If he really did run off, he couldn’t have gotten far.” 

“And if what you’re starting to suspect is true?” the Ambassador said quietly. “If Damian really is in danger?” 

Lucio had the gall to laugh. The sound rang across the room, clashing horribly with the mix of foreboding and cold anger that hung heavy in the air. 

“Oh, Ambassador,” he chuckled when at last he could breathe enough to speak. “I see you haven’t heard tales of any of my glorious exploits.” 

“No,” said the Ambassador. 

The silent _ and I would never, ever want to hear those stories _ that the Ambassador was holding back was blatantly obvious to Julian. 

“A shame,” said Lucio, sounding actually upset. “I’ll have to share some of my stories with you another time.” 

How the Ambassador managed to stay silent after that, Julian would never know. Especially considering the Ambassador looked about ready to slap Count Lucio across the face. 

Julian couldn’t blame him. He was brimming with anger himself. They were trying to figure out what had happened to the prince, trying to find him before he got hurt-- or _ worse _ \-- and Lucio was ready to tell a long-winded story about some fight or other he’d won. And he had a _ lot _ of those stories at the ready. 

“For now, you’ll just have to take my word for it when I say that I am the absolute best person for the job,” Lucio went on, utterly oblivious to the looks both Julian and the Ambassador were giving him. 

“Lucio, I believe I may have to officially take you up on your offer to lead the search,” said Nadia. “That said, I hope we can return to our previous conversation.” 

The Ambassador turned to her, clearly about to protest. Nadia simply held up a hand. The entire room went dead silent. 

“I truly do appreciate your thoughtfulness,” said Nadia, managing a weak smile in the Ambassador’s general direction. “However, while your Majestro may be both willing and able to postpone these arrangements, I’m afraid my kingdom cannot afford to be so patient.” 

The Ambassador deflated, his shoulders slumping. 

“I understand,” he said. 

“I only hope I have not offended you, Ambassador,” Nadia replied. “There is simply too much to be done all at once.” 

The Ambassador hesitated for a moment. Julian could practically see his gears turning, see him trying to form some sort of reply. 

He never got the chance to. Lucio jumped in before the Ambassador could speak. 

“Don’t worry about a thing, Noddy,” said Lucio with a smug smile. “Thanks to _ my _ help, our Prince will be home before you know it. Why, I’ll even report back to the palace every morning, evening, and afternoon, just to keep you informed on the progress of our search!” 

“Perhaps I could help you with this search of yours?” Julian cut in. 

He tried to keep his tone level, but he wasn’t sure how well that worked out. His stint in the community theater certainly hadn’t prepared him for a role like this. 

Lucio scoffed. “You? Please, Jules. We’ve all seen your desk in the library. I’m surprised you can even _ find _ that desk with all the papers that are constantly scattered all over.” 

“That’s important research!” Julian protested. 

“It’s a mess,” said Lucio flippantly. He yanked the note out of Julian’s hand. “And proof that you should really stick to your books.” 

Julian didn’t even bother to hide the glare he shot at the Count’s back as Lucio stode back to his spot by Nadia’s right hand. 

Nadia’s eyes darted between the two of them. Julian was certain that she was trying to measure the room, trying to find the best way to ease the tension. 

“Well,” said Nadia. “We should get started right away. The Ambassador and I will remain here, and do our best to pick up our discussions. Lucio, if you would ensure that the search parties have been sent out...?”

Lucio swept an over-the-top bow, which Julian thought looked utterly ridiculous. 

“Of course, Noddy,” said Lucio gallantly. 

Nadia’s eyes practically slid over the Count, barely sparing him a glance as she turned to Julian. 

“Julian, if you do wish to assist, perhaps you can investigate the stables,” Nadia suggested. “See if you can find out _ how _ Damian chanced to leave the castle.” 

Julian almost flushed. He’d never even considered that idea. 

“R-right away, Your Majesty,” said Julian hastily. 

The Queen nodded. Then... “Portia?” 

Portia jumped, instantly standing stick-straight. “Yes, Your Majesty?” 

“Do what you can to assist Julian,” said Nadia. 

Portia bit her lip. “But... Your Majesty, he knows exactly where to go, and I think I should--”

“I am well aware that you both know the palace inside and out,” said Nadia, a hint of humor returning to her gaze. “However, I believe that Julian needs your assistance now far more than any of us do.” 

Portia’s cheeks turned a bit pink. Julian coughed awkwardly. 

“She’s... not wrong,” he admitted. 

Portia huffed. But Julian could tell she really wasn’t all that upset. 

“Fine,” she said, putting on a great show of being annoyed. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” 

Despite everything, Julian flashed a smirk. “I make no promises.” 

Portia sighed. “All right, that’s enough. Get out.” 

She shoved Julian unceremoniously out the door. They were probably leaving behind a very confused Ambassador, but Julian wasn’t particularly concerned about that at the moment. 

It was amazing how his sister always managed to make any tense situation feel lighter. He was grateful to be by her side for a little while longer. Since Julian was working for the Prince, and Portia was always at the Queen’s call, they hardly ever got a chance to see each other. 

That thought, which would have been almost endearing, just made Julian worry about Damian all over again. And then, of course, he started thinking about how Portia had essentially been dragged into this mess. Julian didn’t want to risk getting her hurt. 

He couldn’t lose anyone else. 

Not that he had lost Damian. Not forever. He absolutely _ refused _ to let that happen. 

All of that ran wildly through his mind as they walked through the palace corridors. At last, about halfway to the stables, Portia let out a long, low breath, breaking the silence. 

“So,” she said. “Are you going to tell me why that note made you so mad?” 

“You mean aside from the fact that something terrible has most likely happened to Damian?” said Julian. 

He half expected Portia to glare at him, or to tell him off for trying to joke about things. But she just sighed. 

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “Besides that.” 

Julian took a deep breath. “It... it’s going to sound a bit crazy, but...” 

“Ilya, I grew up with _ you _,” said Portia with the faintest hint of a smile. “I can handle crazy.” 

Julian flushed. “Fair point.”

Portia gave him a significant look, silently urging him on. 

“Right.” Julian cleared his throat. “Well. I know Her Majesty told us the note was our only piece of evidence, but it’s even more important than she’d thought.” 

Portia’s look turned impatient. “Which means...?” 

“I think this is all a setup,” said Julian. 

He winced, mentally preparing himself for being shut down. But Portia just nodded. 

Julian let out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding. 

“Damian didn’t write that note,” Julian went on. 

“Because he’d never run away?” asked Portia. 

“Well, yes, that,” said Julian, “but, also, it wasn’t his handwriting.” 

“Then who did write it?” Portia asked. 

“I can’t say for certain,” Julian said slowly, “but you have to admit... Count Lucio was acting a bit odd, wasn’t he?” 

Portia pulled a face. “More so than usual?” 

Julian managed a flicker of a smile. “A completely different type of odd than usual. He seemed rather eager to rush to the Prince’s rescue, didn’t he?” 

Portia scoffed. “That’s just Lucio. Always playing the hero. He keeps bragging that he has the sword skills to prove it, but have you ever seen the guy actually fight?” 

“Personally?” asked Julian. “No. But there _ is _ solid evidence of his days as a mercenary before he became the Count.” 

“You think he asked some of his mercenary buddies to kidnap the prince?” asked Portia. 

Julian stopped short. Portia kept walking, stopping only when she realized he wasn’t standing next to her anymore. 

“I... I never thought of that.” Julian’s voice sounded choked. “It’s possible, but... no, what would he gain from turning in his own friends?” 

Portia sighed. “I don’t know...”

“And they said there was no sign of any struggle,” Juilan went on, his mind working a mile a minute. “Damian wouldn’t just let himself get captured without putting up a fight. So either it was someone he already knew and trusted, or they somehow managed to trick him, or take him by surprise...” 

“I don’t think any of the staff would do anything like this,” said Portia. “They all like Damian. I mean, there _ is _ that one guy in the kitchens who’s always complaining about how much fruit Oswald eats, but...” 

“That’s another thing,” Julian cut in. “Why would anyone kidnap Oswald?” 

“To really make sure it looked like he was running away?” Portia suggested nervously. “The prince, I mean. I don’t think Oswald would run away. Or fly away, I guess.” 

“So they kidnapped Damian, made it look like he ran away, and then... talked about kidnapping him again?” Julian shook his head, utterly frustrated. “This doesn’t make any sense...” 

“I know,” said Portia. “And right after we find a way to get the kingdom back on track, too. This is all just...” 

She trailed off. She didn’t need to finish her thought. 

But she had sparked yet another idea in the endless tangle of mysteries. 

“Do you think this union with Zadith might be connected?” Julian asked. 

“You mean the Ambassador and his guard might be suspects?” said Portia, her hands fidgeting nervously. 

“I doubt it,” Julian admitted. “They wouldn’t come all the way here if they didn’t mean to help. And they seem like... like good people.” 

Once again the words got caught in his throat. He still didn’t like the idea of Damian spending the rest of his life with the Majestro of a foreign kingdom. But he really did like the Ambassador. And his guard was rather impressive, if quiet. They both certainly seemed to like Damian. And, if dinner was any indication, Damian liked them as well. Julian couldn’t help but wonder if the Majestro would be pleasant company as well. 

As long as Damian was safe. That was all that mattered. 

“Ilya?”

Portia’s voice snapped Julian out of his thoughts. She sounded so worried. Julian instantly wanted to protect her again, to wrap his arms around her like he did when they were kids. But he couldn’t just hide them both away from the world anymore. Nor could he afford to run away from this trouble he’d found, the way he always used to do. 

He couldn’t let himself drag anyone else down with him, either. Even if his sister was ready to let herself tumble. 

Julian allowed himself a single shaky breath. He had to pull himself together. He had to figure this out. It was time to stop throwing himself at every problem and start taking it slower, start working out a solution. 

It was time to start thinking like Damian. 

“Let’s go see those stables,” he said firmly. “If Damian’s not in the castle, maybe we can find some clue to where he _ has _ gone.” 

Portia nodded. “That’s as good a plan as any.” 

Silence fell again as they rushed to the stables. Both of them were shaking with so much sheer nervous energy that they very nearly broke out into a run. And even then, it seemed to take far too long to reach the stables. And their search for any sign of trouble was absolutely frantic. 

Portia was the first to notice the obvious. 

“Appleberry’s gone,” she blurted out nearly the instant they’d stepped into stables. 

Julian blinked. “What?” 

“One of Milady’s stallions,” Portia explained. 

Julian still looked utterly blank. 

Portia huffed. “The one that absolutely refuses to do anything without an entire bag of apples?” 

“Ah, right,” Julian muttered. “That one.” 

“Damian’s never ridden Appleberry before,” said Portia. 

“He takes Lysinger whenever he goes out to ride,” said Julian with a nod. “He always did have a way with the more wild ones...” 

He smiled foldy as at the image of Damian carefully approaching the palomino horse, moving smoothly with a single hand outstretched. Lysinger would never let Damian so much as mount him before his customary pet on the nose. That alone was rather impressive, considering how Damian was essentially the only one that Lysinger would even allow to touch him. 

Portia rolled her eyes. “Of course. You remember _ Damian’s _ favorite horse, but any of the other ones Milady cares for...” 

“I, ah, hardly have time to visit the stables myself,” Julian coughed. 

“Just see if you can find anything else,” Portia sighed. 

Thoroughly chastened, Julian got to work. He couldn’t help but wonder if Damian would ever get a chance to visit the stables again. And he instantly kicked himself for even considering that idea. 

He had to figure this all out. He had to get Damian home. For however long that home lasted. 

It wasn’t long before he found something very clearly suspicious. A cloak and a muddied pair of boots had been tucked away in a corner, half-buried under straw. Julian brushed the straw aside and picked up the cloak. 

He’d know that distinctive style anywhere. 

“Pasha, look,” he called. 

His sister joined him almost instantly. “What is it?” 

Julian straightened up, displaying the fur-lined cloak. 

Portia gasped. “But that’s...” 

“Lucio’s,” Julian confirmed. 

Portia’s eyes narrowed. “That _ jerk! _ If he’s really the one behind this, I’m gonna--”

“We have to make sure, first,” Julian cut her off. 

Portia stopped short, staring at her brother in shock. “That’s... surprisingly cautious of you.” 

“Oh, we’ll get Lucio,” said Julian, a shadow of his usual smirk playing across his lips. “But the best way to stop Lucio’s plan is to make sure we get Damian back.” 

Portia made a sound that was almost a laugh. “Right. Of course.” 

“And I hate to admit it, but... Lucio’s good,” Julian went on. “He’s a horrible person, of course, but he’s good at what he does. We need some way to keep him occupied. And possibly keep the Ambassador out of trouble. And of course the Queen can’t find out what we’re up to...” 

“Ilya, this is starting to sound like one of your hairbrained schemes,” said Portia almost accusingly. “You can’t just rush in blindly and put on some kind of show to keep everybody distracted! Besides, how are you going to find the prince if you’re doing some... some crazed jester thing?” 

“Crazed jester doesn’t sound all that bad,” Julian chuckled. 

“_ Ilya _!” 

“No, you’re right,” said Julian. “We need help. Someone who really _ can _play the part we... need...” 

Julian trailed off. His eyes went wide. 

“Ilya, what are you planning?” Portia demanded. 

“Pasha, it’s an _ inside job, _” Julian insisted. 

Portia scowled. “Yes. And that means...?” 

“We don’t just need help,” said Julian. The words rushed out of him. “We need _ outside _ help. Someone who has nothing to do with the palace. Someone who has some experience working the crowd. Someone who’ll be more than willing to help Damian out.” 

“And you know someone like that?” Portia asked. 

Julian was already on his feet. “Pasha. You know how to get to Lord Valerius’ Clothing Emporium, right?” 

“Well, yeah,” said Portia automatically. Then she frowned again. “Ilya, this is not the time to go buying clothes!” 

“I’m not looking for clothes,” said Julian. “If I run down fast enough... ah, wait, no, I should call for a carriage, shouldn’t I? I can’t exactly let her waltz into the palace without any preparation...” 

“Let _ who _ waltz into the palace?” Portia demanded. “Ilya, what are you...?” 

“Damian’s friend,” Julian said breathlessly. “The singer. She’ll help us, I _ know _ she will. But we need an excuse, a role for her to play... I suppose we _ could _ grab some of Damian’s old clothes and...” 

“And what?” Portia scoffed. “Pass this mystery girl of yours off as the prince? Even if they look alike-- which you never told me they did, by the way-- Milady would see through that in an instant.” 

“You’re right, you’re right,” Julian mumbled. “We have to turn her into someone else, someone even the Queen can’t refuse to see...” 

“So, what, you’re going to have someone impersonate royalty?” Portia said sarcastically. 

Julian froze. His eyes gleamed. 

“Oh, no,” Portia sighed. “I know that look. Do I even want to know what your plan is?” 

“Pasha, do you think you could find some time in the Queen’s busy schedule for that meeting we have planned with the Princess of Nevivon?” Julian said with a smirk. 

Portia shook her head, utterly lost. “We don’t have any appointments with the Princess of Nevivon. Nevivon doesn’t even _ have _ a princess, as far as I know.” 

Julian grinned. “Exactly. Can’t impersonate royalty that doesn’t exist, now can we?” 

“Wait.” Portia held out a hand almost helplessly. “So this grand plan of yours is to bring in some girl that I’ve never seen, pretend she’s the Princess of Nevivon, and have her join Milady’s meetings with the Majestro?” 

Julian shrugged, looking utterly unabashed. “Essentially, yes.” 

Portia stared at her brother for a solid ten seconds. Julian’s heart started pounding nervously. When she said it out loud like that, it really did sound insane. But he couldn’t think of anything else they could do. 

At last, Portia sighed. “This plan is even crazier than all of your other ones.” 

Julian slumped as his spirits plummeted. 

“But...” 

Julian straightened up a bit, just daring to hope again.

“We _ might _ be able to make it work,” Portia admitted. “But we have to be really, _ really _ careful. We can’t let Milady find out.” 

“Of course,” Julian agreed at once. “And if anyone can make sure a shopkeep looks like royalty, it’s you, Pasha.” 

“Shopkeep?” Portia repeated. “Is that why we’re talking about that Clothing Emporium?” 

“Our usual driver knows how to get there, right?” said Julian, his mind already skipping ahead to what he would have to do. 

“Well, yeah, but--”

“Then I’ll go down there myself,” Julian declared, cutting Portia off. “Right now. Pasha, please... make sure the palace is ready for a princess.” 

He dashed off before Portia could reply. She sighed as she watched him go. 

“I just hope this _ princess _ of yours is ready for a princess,” she muttered. 


	15. Taking a Risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Meleia agrees to what's probably a really bad plan.

Meleia had been forced to work harder than ever since she had returned from her foray into the city. Valerius had somehow managed to find some things that he had conveniently forgotten to mention before, things that needed to be completed by morning. He piled so much on top of her that she barely had time to eat what little she was given for dinner. And she hardly got any semblance of sleep. 

“You have plenty of work to make up for,” Valerius snapped after rudely waking her up. “We can’t afford to waste time.  _ Again. _ ”

Meleia said nothing. She just got herself ready as quickly as possible. She’d been working for Valerius long enough by now that she knew nothing she said would have helped. Despite the fact that she’d finished all the work he gave her yesterday.

Despite the fact that said work shouldn’t have existed in the first place. 

Valerius was still adding more to her workload as Meleia unceremoniously shoved the hunk of cheese that served as her breakfast into her face. Apparently, the gowns and coats that she had cut the fabric for and sewn the skirts of last night not only needed to be completed  _ today, _ but she had to add embroidery to each one as well. 

“And don’t forget,” he said mercilessly, “I still require some compensation for lending you that hat and purple gown yesterday.” 

Meleia kept her gaze on the floor. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears. 

Though honestly, after Valerius’ outburst by the fountain, she should have seen this coming. It was almost a surprise that things weren’t worse. 

She hadn’t even been allowed out in the shop proper the entire day. Or at any point the next morning. She was all but locked inside the back room, sewing so much that her vision was starting to blur. There wasn’t even any music to lift her spirits. 

She simply didn’t feel much like singing at the moment.

On any other day, she would have had a lot to sing about. Volta actually got a chance to go out on the shop floor and work with the few customers that they had that day. Which meant that Meleia didn’t need to worry about actually speaking to any of the ruder customers. And Meleia had gained so much from her trip into the city. She’d actually managed to make a friend. A friend who was willing to give her more money that she had ever thought she’d own. And all just for a song. 

It was amazing, really. She’d never met someone who had really appreciated her music before, aside from Volta. Valerius certainly didn’t. 

So instead of singing, she simply listened, trying to glean anything that might have been happening outside her dark, dismally lonely workroom. She heard the distinctive ring of the shop bell a few times, though not as often as usual. She’d been hearing it less and less lately, it seemed. Still, with every ring came Valerius’ voice, welcoming each new customer and instantly trying to secure a sale. Meleia had heard  _ that _ so often that she had the spiel memorized. After that, though, it was always much harder to tell what was going on. The conversations generally became more hushed. Meleia had no idea who any of the customers were, which was much more upsetting than she’d ever thought it might be. The only hint she got as to what was going on outside were the orders that Valerius shouted at her through the door. He didn’t even open it once. 

Meleia was almost used to being lonely. But she had never felt so isolated in her entire life. 

It had been worth it, though. No matter how she might feel now, being able to meet Damian, Julian, and even little Oswald had been absolutely wonderful. She hoped she might see them again, someday. 

The thought of the promise Damian had made helped her get through the long, awful day. 

It was well past lunch-- or so Meleia assumed by how often she heard Valerius yelling at Volta about food-- when she overheard something that made her freeze in her tracks. 

“Welcome, Milord,” said Valerius. 

Meleia had never heard  _ that _ tone from him before. Whoever had just entered the shop must have been someone incredibly important. 

“It’s always a pleasure to receive a guest from the Palace,” Valerius went on. 

Meleia gasped. The Palace? It couldn’t be. There was no way Damian had sent for her already... 

“I’ve heard a lot about this fine establishment,” the customer replied. “I’m quite happy to see it for myself.” 

Meleia dropped her current project and leaned closer to the door. She didn’t think that was Damian’s voice. It was deeper. But it  _ did _ sound familiar... 

“Truly, we are honored to have you,” said Valerius. Meleia could almost imagine his bow. “Are you looking for anything in particular this fine day? Perhaps a lovely suit or gown for a special someone? I can assure you, you will find only the finest in my humble Emporium.” 

“I’m sure that’s the case,” said the customer. “And while I would love to have a chance to see for myself, I’m afraid I don’t have the time.” 

Meleia almost got to her feet. She  _ definitely _ knew that voice. 

“Oh?” said Valerius. “I do hope there isn’t any problem.” 

“Not with any of our purchases, I assure you,” said the customer. “Actually, I’m here on behalf of His Highness, Prince Damian.” 

Meleia’s breath caught in her throat. 

“Indeed?” Valerius’ tone was still oddly smooth. “Forgive me for not realizing sooner. The palace usually sends another when ordering suits or coats for His Highness...” 

“True,” said the other voice. “My sister, in fact. I’m afraid she’s preoccupied at the moment. And I have a rather special request.” 

For a moment, Meleia was thrown by how formal the customer sounded. The last time she’d heard that voice, it was far more lighthearted. And occasionally over-the-top. She started to wonder if she’d guessed wrong, if this wasn’t the person she was thinking of. 

Valerius’ tone, on the other hand, was unmistakably gleeful. He could smell a sale. A particularly expensive sale. 

“Really?” he asked. “What can I do for you, milord?” 

“Actually, I was hoping to speak to one of your seamstresses,” the customer replied. 

Meleia was on her feet before she’d even realized she was standing up. Her heart was pounding, threatening to break right out of her chest. She clutched the fabric she’d been stitching close to her chest, almost like a lifeline. Or a shield. 

She couldn’t believe it. This couldn’t be true. 

“My seamstress?” Valerius repeated. His tone was dangerously cold. 

“If I may,” said the customer, “I need to borrow Miss Meleia.” 

The fabric Mleia had been holding dropped silently to the floor. 

He was asking for  _ her. _ Damian really had kept his promise. 

She hadn’t doubted him. Not really. But it was still so hard to wrap her head around. She certainly hadn’t expected him to send for her so  _ soon. _

It was a long moment before Valerius answered. Meleia could hear Volta scurrying around, probably trying to figure out what was happening. Or maybe she was using the distraction to try to sneak a few tea cakes off the tray they had set out for customers. 

“Very well,” Valerius said at last. 

Meleia’s heart might have stopped then and there, and she would hardly have noticed. This was such a complete shift from this morning-- from even a few seconds ago-- that it seemed the entire world had been turned upside down. 

But Meleia couldn’t say she minded. 

“Just a moment,” said Valerius. Then his tone abruptly turned harsh. “Volta! Back room.  _ Now. _ ” 

Volta let out a little yelp. Meleia heard the distinct clatter of the tea set. Then she heard Volta’s hurried footsteps as she rushed to the door. Meleia hastily backpedaled before the door was thrown open with such force that she might have been knocked flat if it had actually struck her. Volta practically flew into the room, Valerius only a few steps behind her. Meleia had to hurry to snatch the fabric she’d dropped out of his way before he stepped on it. 

If Valerius noticed, he gave no sign. He simply glared down his nose at her. 

“It seems someone wishes to speak with you,” he hissed. “Though I can’t imagine why.” 

Meleia was too overwhelmed to be particularly bothered by that comment. She was about to be summoned to the Palace. Everything else seemed completely unimportant in comparison. 

“You will  _ not _ waste his time,” Valerius ordered. “And you will do  _ everything _ in your limited power to meet whatever his demands might be.” 

Meleia nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak. 

Valerius’ glare only grew harsher. For one gut-wrenching moment, Meleia was afraid he would make her stay in the back room. 

“Well?” Valerius said impatiently. “Get on with it.” 

Meleia jumped. She slipped around him and skidded out the door before Valerius could change his mind. 

She staggered to a stop almost instantly. She couldn’t hold back an enormous grin. 

Her guess had been completely right. Julian had come to call for her. His clothes were different: he was wearing a pale uniform now, with the royal insignia on the sash. And he didn’t have his eyepatch. Even the way he stood was different. He stood about as straight as someone so tall could stand without looking completely intimidating... though Meleia doubted that Julian could be intimidating at all, even if he tried. 

Still, different clothes and attitude or not, it was still Julian. Here. In her shop. 

She must have looked like a complete idiot, smiling at him like that. 

Julian smiled back at her. Meleia thought he looked a bit nervous. Not that she could blame him. Valerius had the magical ability to intimidate anyone. 

Julian glanced up at Valerius. He cleared his throat. 

“Forgive me,” he said grandly, “but I’m afraid this is a private matter.” 

Valerius looked absolutely scandalized. Meleia would have laughed if she weren’t so worried that doing the slightest thing wrong would mean she would completely lose her chance to go with Julian. Still, she would treasure this moment forever. For a number of reasons. 

It seemed there was nothing that Valerius wanted to do less. But he bowed. 

“Of course,” he replied. His voice was only slightly strained. 

With that, he softly shut the door. Meleia was tempted to cry out in sheer joy right then. But, if it really  _ were _ a private conversation, she’d have to wait a moment longer. She grabbed Julian’s hand, making him let out a little cry of surprise. And she dragged him to the opposite end of the shop proper. 

“Meleia, what--?” 

“You said it was private, right?” said Meleia. “It would be way too easy to eavesdrop on us if we stayed right by the door.” 

Julian looked startled for a moment more. Then he laughed. 

“Good point,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I usually catch things like that. I guess I’m more preoccupied than I thought.” 

“It’s alright,” said Meleia. “I just can’t believe you’re actually  _ here _ .” 

Julian’s hand dropped slowly to his side. “Meleia...” 

“I mean, it’s not that I’m unhappy you’re here,” Meleia blurted out. “I’m so,  _ so _ glad to see you!” 

“Meleia, wait, I--”

“I can’t believe the prince actually sent for me!” Meleia cried. She was too wrapped up in her overflowing joy to realize she’d interrupted Julian again. “I’ll get to sing at the palace! The  _ palace! _ You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of doing something like this! I never dared to believe it would actually  _ happen _ , not before, but now...” 

“Uh, Meleia...” 

Meleia’s joy dissipated, replaced by sheer nervousness as a horrible realization hit her. 

“But now I’m not ready,” she gasped. “I... I haven’t rehearsed! At  _ all _ !” 

Julian cleared his throat. “I’m... not sure that’s going to be a problem right--”

“And I have to change!” Meleia rambled. “I can’t sing at the palace in my shop dress... no, wait, I don’t  _ have _ another dress! What was I  _ thinking? _ There’s no way I can show myself at...” 

She trailed off. She’d finally seen the expression on Julian’s face. And her heart seemed to drop into her stomach. 

“That’s... not why you’re here,” she said slowly. “Is it?” 

Julian looked heartbroken. “No. No, I’m afraid not.” 

“Something bad has happened, hasn’t it?” said Meleia. 

It wasn’t really a question. She already knew the answer.

It took Julian a moment to reply. He took a furtive glance towards the door, probably trying to make sure he couldn’t be heard. Then he seemed to brace himself. As though he weren’t ready to admit what was going on. 

“Damian is missing.” Julian forced the words out with a grimace. 

Meleia gasped. Her entire being went wobbly with shock. Her legs wouldn’t hold her up anymore. She staggered back, sinking slowly into a cushioned seat. She didn’t even think about the fact that she’d never been allowed in those seats. They were for customers only. She could have gotten in serious trouble. None of that mattered at the moment.

“I know,” said Julian, wincing again. “That’s why I need your help.” 

Meleia blinked, startled. “Me?”

“You’re the only one I know I can trust,” said Julian. 

“Why?” Meleia blurted out. “What happened?” 

Julian sighed. “Right now, I have no idea. But I have a few suspicions. I believe the Queen’s advisor is behind it.” 

“Her advisor?” Meleia repeated. 

“Count Lucio,” Julian explained. “He’s been acting strangely the past few days. Well, stranger than usual. Including far more frequent trips away from the Palace.” 

“Wait...” Meleia’s eyes widened. “Lucio?” 

Julian raised an eyebrow. “You’ve heard of him?” 

“I think so,” said Meleia. “Blond? Wears a lot of capes? Has big white dogs that he always fusses about?” 

Julian almost laughed. “You  _ have _ heard of him.” 

“He comes by the shop a lot,” Meleia explained. “I think he must give Valerius a lot of money, because he always makes us treat him with extra respect. Which... can I speak honestly?” 

She looked up at Julian almost belatedly. Julian nodded, looking mildly amused. 

Meleia took a deep breath and let her next words out in a rush. 

“It’s really hard to be nice to him all the time, since he basically throws a temper tantrum every time he comes in,” Meleia admitted. 

She didn’t know what she expected Julian’s reaction to be. But she certainly hadn’t thought that his smile would just get bigger. 

“Sounds like Lucio,” he agreed. “If he isn’t completely satisfied, you’ll certainly hear about it. And so will everyone two kingdoms over.” 

Meleia managed a smile of her own. It quickly faded. 

“But why would the Queen’s advisor want to hurt Damian?” Meleia asked, her voice barely a whisper. 

“Good question,” said Julian. “Lucio was never the nicest person, but he always seemed to like Damian.” Julian pulled a face. “Damian never liked  _ him _ much, but I digress. Best I can figure, Lucio wants to make sure Damian’s wedding with the Majestro never happens.” 

“But... isn’t the wedding all about saving Vesuvia?” said Meleia. 

“That’s right,” said Julian. “And if Lucio ensures that it’s cancelled...” 

“Then the entire kingdom will pay the price...” Meleia murmured. 

Julian nodded, his expression dark. 

“That’s awful,” Meleia breathed. “We have to do something.” 

“I’m glad you agree,” said Julian, though he sounded anything but glad. 

Meleia squared her shoulders. “What can I do to help?” 

“We need to stall for time until I can find Damian,” said Julian instantly. “Someone has to make sure the Majestro’s ambassador doesn’t cancel the wedding. And maybe even make sure the Majestro doesn’t leave when he actually arrives.” 

“So... I just... talk to them?” Meleia asked. She was utterly lost. 

The shadow of Julian’s usual smirk started showing. “Almost.” 

“But... but there’s no way a shopkeep like me could ever even  _ see _ any royal visitors,” said Meleia. 

“Absolutely not,” Julian agreed. “But you aren’t going to  _ be _ a shopkeep.” 

“I’m not?” said Meleia blankly. 

Julian crossed his arms, almost looking proud of himself. 

“ _ You’re _ going to be the Princess of Nevivion,” he declared. “Discussions about ties between kingdoms will certainly take longer when  _ three _ kingdoms are involved, won’t they?” 

Meleia’s heart started pounding again. But this time there wasn’t even a shred of excitement. 

“You want me to pretend to be royalty?” she gasped. 

“If anyone can do it, it’s you,” said Julian. “Damian insisted you belonged on the stage. And I’ve always trusted his judgement. He hasn’t steered me wrong yet.” 

“But... but I don’t even know if I can leave the shop,” said Meleia. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help. Of  _ course _ she did. More than that, she  _ had _ to. She couldn’t just abandon Damian. And if she were being as honest as she had been when discussing her encounters with Lucio, leaving the shop wasn’t exactly the biggest problem she could think of. 

But there was just no way she could pull something like this off. 

“I’ll speak with Valerius,” said Julian. “He can’t complain if he’s compensated for your services.” 

“I... I can’t abandon Volta,” said Meleia. “She needs my help.” 

“So does Damian,” said Julian quietly. 

Meleia sighed. “I know. And I  _ want _ to help him. I really do. But... impersonating royalty?” 

“Well, technically, Nevivon doesn’t  _ have _ a princess,” said Julian. 

“So I guess I can’t get in trouble for impersonating her,” Meliea mumbled. 

“That’s the general idea,” said Julian with the barest smile. 

Meleia couldn’t even come close to returning the smile. 

Julian’s arms went limp again. “I understand your concern. You’d be risking a lot. We both would. The last thing I want to do is get you in trouble on my behalf.” 

Meleia shook her head. “That’s not what I’m worried about.” 

Julian blinked. “It’s not?” 

“I’m not even...” Meleia floundered, trying to find words. “I mean, I’m sure Volta will be alright for a while. It’s just...” 

“Just what?” Julian asked. 

Meleia let out a long sigh. She slumped down, her shoulders hunched. 

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she murmured. “I don’t know anything about being a princess. I’ll just mess everything up. And then even more people will be in danger. I’ll get caught, and you’ll probably get thrown in the dungeons for even coming up with this plan, and if Lucio knows we’re trying to help Damian, he might do something  _ horrible _ to him, and then...” 

“Well, for one, you shouldn’t worry about me,” said Julian. “I’m... surprised you even thought about that, actually.” 

Meleia looked up at him, her bangs falling in front of her eyes. 

“And I won’t force you to do this,” Julian went on. “But I really do believe you can help. You might be the only person who  _ can. _ ” 

Meleia bit her lip nervously. “I know. I know, and I want to make sure Damian’s alright. But what if I just make things worse?” 

“I’ll take full responsibility if anything happens,” said Julian. 

Meleia shook her head. “That’s not what I--”

“And I’ll teach you everything you need to know about being royalty,” Julian went on, cutting off her protests before they had really gotten started. “I taught Damian the ropes, after all. And something tells me you’ll be a fast learner.” 

Meleia’s heart was still pounding. But, despite all her doubts, despite the thousands of things that could go wrong, she knew she really couldn’t refuse. 

She’d known that from the start. 

“I’m sorry,” Meleia blurted out. 

Julian’s face fell. “Of course. I shouldn’t have pushed this on you in the first--”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Meleia said quickly. “I mean... I’m sorry I ever hesitated.” 

Julian’s head popped up. The mix of surprise and hope on his face was almost comical. 

“So you’ll...?” 

“I’ll do it,” she said firmly. “Of  _ course _ I’ll do it.” 

Julian broke into a relieved grin. “Thank you.  _ Thank _ you. I promise, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure this all works out.” 

“And I’ll do whatever I can to get Damian home,” Meleia swore. 

“I know you will,” said Julian. 

He actually sounded like he believed it. Like he believed in  _ her. _ The thought gave Meleia a warm sort of feeling. It was a feeling she certainly wasn’t used to. 

She really,  _ really _ hoped she didn’t let them all down. 

“Now,” said Julian, clapping his hands together, “all that’s left to do is pay Valerius for the trouble. And you really  _ do _ need a new dress if you’re going to play princess... any thoughts?” 

He raised his eyebrow again. Meleia’s own gaze automatically traveled to the racks of gowns that lined the shop wall. To one gown in particular. It was one of several that had been made available for anyone to pick up in case they needed something instantly. It may not have been as custom-fitted as a personal order, but the details were still exquisite. And Meleia had always wondered how she would look in that gown. Even when she had been working on it, she’d daydreamed about getting the chance to wear it. 

A chance that had seemed impossible. Until now. 

Julian followed her gaze. And he grinned. 

“That’ll work,” he said. “And I’m certain Lord Valerius will be happy to get a little more patronage on behalf of the palace.” 

Meleia’s heart seemed to be doing a funny little twist now. This was all a risk. A  _ huge _ risk. For absolutely everyone involved. But she wasn’t about to back down. Not when so much was on the line. 

She got to her feet, trying to look far more confident than she felt. 

“Let’s do this,” she said firmly. 


	16. Dark Halls, Empty Chambers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Meleia infiltrates the palace.

While Julian spoke with Valerius, Meleia got ready for her trip to the palace. It didn’t take long. It wasn’t as though she had much to pack. 

The most difficult part was finding some way to smuggle Forge out with her. The fox had been hiding from Valerius’ wrath for most of the day. It took quite a bit of work to coax him out from underneath Meleia’s mat. It was a terrible hiding spot, since he made a very obvious lump, but at least he was safe. No one besides Meleia and Volta ever went up to that little room.

Eventually, she managed to tuck Forge into the bag that she’d borrowed from a very excited Volta, letting him snuggle into the bundle that was made up of her nightclothes and storybooks. When she slipped back downstairs, Julian and Valerius were still discussing compensation. 

Meleia could barely follow the conversation, so she had no idea how Julian managed to do it. But it wasn’t much longer before Julian escorted her out of the shop, with the dress she had been eyeing in hand, and led her to the waiting carriage. 

Meleia’s heart started pounding again. 

She was really doing this. It still seemed impossible. Like some kind of dream. Or nightmare. At the moment, it was hard to tell which.

Julian helped her into the carriage almost automatically. The moment she was up the tiny set of stairs, she froze. 

“What’s wrong?” Julian asked. 

“Nothing,” Meleia said quickly. “I just... I’ve never been in a carriage like this before.” 

She’d never been in a carriage _ at all _ before. But she wasn’t quite ready to admit that. 

Julian cleared his throat awkwardly. “A bit flashy, isn’t it? I admit, I wanted to make an impression. Things usually go your way much faster if people think you’re important.” 

He flashed her a teasing grin. Meleia managed a wobbly smile back. She clutched her bag to her chest, holding Forge closer for comfort. 

Apparently, Forge wasn’t too happy about that. He wriggled around, poking his head out of the top of the bag. 

Julian’s eyes widened. “What...?” 

Then, somehow, Forge managed to leap straight out of the bag. He landed deftly on the carriage floor and proceeded to circle the entire thing. Twice. Sniffing absolutely everything he could with a speed and intensity that Meleia had never seen before. 

Julian just stared, completely shocked. Meleia felt heat creeping into her cheeks. 

“I’m sorry, I just couldn't leave him!” she blurted out, the words rushing out of her far too quickly. “I know he can usually fend for himself, but he doesn’t like being alone for all that long, and Volta’s already so busy, I don’t want her to worry about taking care of him, too, and Valerius would _ never _ approve of--”

“It’s alright,” Julian assured her, cutting off her rant. “The Majestro’s bringing his pet, too. And you’ve seen how Damian never goes anywhere without... Oswald..."

He trailed off. The air instantly felt heavier. Meleia instantly figured out what had made Julian look so downcast. 

Oswald was missing, too.

Julian cleared his throat. “And. Well, you know. The Count has his hounds, and the Majestro’s guard has a big dog or something. The Palace is a regular menagerie at this point. You’re fine.”

Meleia certainly didn’t _ feel _ fine. But it was good to know Forge wouldn’t cause any trouble. Well, not just by being in the palace, anyway. Hopefully. 

Julian allowed both Meleia and Forge to get settled in before he closed the carriage door and headed to the front. For once, he seemed far too intent on his mission to spare time on dramatic words. He just drove. The trip itself was rather uneventful, though Meleia was constantly torn between her desperate desire to glue her face to the window and drink in every single possible sight and the thought that she should probably keep herself hidden. 

Her curiosity won out. She watched with wide eyes as the city-- the only home she had ever known-- turned smaller and smaller as they climbed up the hill to the palace. 

Meleia was instantly glad she’d chosen to stay by the window. The palace was even more gorgeous up close. It absolutely glistened in the sunlight, the spires of its towers tall enough to pierce the clouds.

She still found herself ducking her head down and trying to look inconspicuous when they rumbled up to the gates. They probably weren’t at the _ main _ gates-- this particular entrance was far too small, and half-overgrown with ivy-- but there was still a guard stationed there. In full armor. And holding a wickedly sharp spear. 

It made it all too easy for Meleia to imagine what would happen to her if she were found out. And what might happen to Julian on top of that. 

Despite Meleia’s worries, Julian barely even had to exchange a word with the guard before the gates were opened and the carriage rolled through. They pulled to a stop right next to what must have been the stables. The whole area was surprisingly empty. 

Julian threw the carriage door open and ushered Meleia onto the ground as quickly as possible. 

“They’ve tightened security,” he said nervously. “We’ll have to be careful. Uh, even more careful than before.” 

“I will,” Meleia nodded, clutching Forge close to her chest again. 

Julian couldn’t even manage a smile this time. He simply moved forward, skirting around the stables. He gestured for her to follow without so much as looking back once. 

Meleia hurried after him.

Julian talked as they walked, his tone almost as hurried as Meleia’s had been when she had tried to apologize for bringing Forge. 

“We have a lot to do, and not a lot of time to do it,” said Julian breathlessly. “First step... we have to make sure you’re ready to really play the part before we introduce you to the Queen.” 

Meleia gulped. Oh, gods. The fact that she was actually going to try to convince the _ Queen _ that she was royalty hadn’t fully sunk in until that moment. How in the _ world _ was she supposed to pull this off? 

“Naturally, we can’t let anyone see you just yet,” Julian went on, apparently oblivious to her plight. “If even the servants’ entrances are guarded, we’re going to have to be very stealthy. Luckily for us, there’s someone on our side who knows every single passage in the palace... including the secret ones.” 

“Really?” said Meleia, intrigued almost despite herself. “Who?” 

Julian didn’t reply. He’d stopped short near one of the palace walls. He stared at it for a moment, muttering to himself. Suddenly, he let out a triumphant laugh so abrupt that Meleia jumped. And he rapped his knuckles against a moss-covered stone. 

For a long moment, nothing happened. Meleia started fidgeting. 

Julian flashed her a sideways grin. “Wait for it...” 

Something rumbled. Meleia flinched again. Forge let out a startled squeak. 

And the wall moved. 

What had looked like an entire section of packed stone turned out to be a cleverly camouflaged door. It creaked open, swinging inward. Julian ducked into the much-too-small-for-him opening without an instant of hesitation. Meleia had no choice but to follow him. 

The door led to a dimly lit corridor that ended in a flight of narrow stairs. Despite the tunnel being so low that Julian had to awkwardly hunch over, he dashed nimbly up the staircase. It was like he’d done this a hundred times before. Meleia was far less sure-footed as she followed. And to make matters worse, she ended up jumping for a third time, nearly banging her head on the ceiling, when a new voice echoed around them. 

“Ilya! _ There _ you are! You found her, right? _ Please _ tell me you found her...” 

“It’s alright, Pasha,” Julian called back. “She’s right behind me.” 

Light flared at the top of the tunnel. Meleia squinted through the sudden glare. She could just barely make out the silhouette of a woman with hair curly enough to rival her own. 

“Good,” the woman sighed. “We’d better hurry-- Milady’s searching the palace again. Trying to find clues.” 

She sounded heartbroken. Julian grimaced. All Meleia could do was hug Forge even tighter. This time, Forge must have picked up on her concern. He pressed his head against her cheek, trying to comfort her. 

Meleia appreciated the effort, but it didn’t help much at the moment. 

All she could do was follow as Julian and this mysterious new person led her out of the tunnel and into the palace proper. Despite what the woman had said, the halls were completely empty. Maybe they were more worried about suspicious figures _ outside _ the castle than in. Or maybe Meleia and Julian were just lucky. 

Either way, neither Julian nor the woman paused for an instant. Meleia nearly had to jog to keep up. 

“Where exactly are we going?” she asked nervously.

“We had to find a space where we knew no one would come bother us,” said Julian. 

“It was entirely _ his _ idea,” said the woman pointedly, glaring at Julian. 

Julian chuckled. “Guilty as charged. Ah, but we haven’t made our introductions yet, have we?” He somehow managed to gesture grandly to the woman without interrupting his stride. “Meleia, this is my darling baby sister.” 

The woman snorted. “Oh, sure. _ Baby _ sister. Right. I’m much more mature than you are, mister, and you know it.” 

Meleia had no idea how to react to that. Thankfully, the conversation paused for a moment as Julian’s sister pushed aside a tapestry and reveal another hidden passageway. She ushered them both through, making sure the tapestry fell back into place behind them. 

Meleia must have looked utterly lost, because the moment that was done, Julian’s sister shot her a reassuring smile. 

“Don’t let him get to you,” she said lightly. “He’s _ always _ this annoying.” 

Meleia honestly had no idea how to respond to that. So she stayed silent. 

“Just call me Portia,” Julian’s sister introduced herself. “And don’t worry. I know the palace can be kind of intimidating. Especially with all of _ this _ going on.” 

She grimaced. Meleia didn’t even have to ask what _ all this _ was. 

“But we’re here to help,” Portia promised. “And the Queen is really nice. She might be a little scary when she gets mad, but... well. She won’t get mad. So we’ll be fine!” 

This didn’t do much to ease Meleia’s worry at all. 

It seemed to work for Julian, though, since he chuckled. 

“Pasha, please, you’re terrifying her,” he said lightly. 

Meleia’s brain latched onto the only question that she thought might get an answer. 

“Pasha?” she repeated. “I thought you said Portia.” 

“It’s a long story,” said Portia lightly. “Longer when _ he _ tells it,” she added, nodding at Julian. 

“Hey!” Julian protested, but his annoyance almost instantly vanished. “Wait, no, that’s fair.”

“Anyway, Portia’s just fine,” his sister went on blithely. “So, you know my name. What’s yours?”

“Meleia.” 

Their conversation paused again as they emerged from their passageway. The hallway they found seemed completely identical to the first one, as far as Meleia could tell. She was glad to have Julian and Portia to help her, otherwise she was bound to get completely lost. 

“Meleia,” Portia repeated. “That’s a beautiful name.” 

“Isn’t it, though?” Julian agreed, shooting her another smile. “Matches the owner perfectly.”

Meleia was glad she was behind the two of them. Maybe they wouldn’t notice her blush. She’d never been called anything close to beautiful by _ one _ person, let alone two. She didn’t know how to handle it. 

“Where’s the name from, anyway?” Julian asked idly. “Doesn’t sound like it’s Vesuvian or Prakran, and I don’t think I heard a name like that in Dhakhar...” 

“I-I don’t know,” Meleia admitted. “I never met my family, so...” 

She trailed off. The already tense mood instantly turned even more awkward. 

Meleia felt bad for making everyone upset. But the reminder that she genuinely had no idea who she was or where she had come from hurt even more. She tried not to think about it too often. Tried to pretend that it didn’t matter. But ignoring it certainly didn’t do anything to help how lonely and lost she felt a lot of the time. 

For the first time, pretending to be someone else when meeting the Queen almost sounded like a good thing. At least she wouldn’t be presenting herself as... well, no one. But she still didn’t really think she should be presenting herself as a princess, either. She certainly hadn’t done anything to deserve such an illustrious title. 

But if it meant helping Damian, she would do whatever it took. 

Portia was the first to break the silence. She stopped walking, making Julian crash into her, and turned to give Meleia another warm smile. 

“Hey,” she said soothingly. “Doesn’t really matter where you came from, right? All that counts is what you do now. And you’re really saving the day, here. If my brother is actually going out of his way to ask someone for help instead of just rushing in blindly like usual, you must be someone pretty spectacular.” 

Meleia managed a weak laugh. 

“Besides,” Portia added with a wink, “if you don’t know who your family is, who’s to say you _ aren’t _ a princess of something-or-other?” 

“The fair Princess Meleia, stolen away in the night and hidden deep in Vesuvia!” Julian added dramatically. “It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? I should write a play about it someday. Unless _ you’d _ rather be the secret princess, eh, Pasha?” 

Portia snorted. “Yeah, sure. Maybe when I was a little kid.” 

“Oh?” Julian raised a teasing eyebrow. “And not now?” 

“Alright, alright, let’s just focus on what we have to do, okay?” said Portia. She started walking again with an air of finality. 

Julian sighed. He shot Meleia a shrug and a look that distinctly said “_ what can you do? _” 

Meleia actually let out a genuine laugh that time. Even Forge wagged his tail, his ears perking up a bit. 

It wasn’t long before they had, amazingly, ducked into another secret passage. 

“Not the most straightforward way to get there,” said Portia, sounding a bit guilty, “but at least no one will be able to follow us.” 

“How many secret passages _ are _ there?” Meleia wondered. 

She only realized she’d said that aloud when Portia laughed. “Way too many.” 

“And yet, you know them all,” said Julian, elbowing his sister. He was probably aiming for her ribs, but since he was much taller, he wound up nudging her arm. 

“Well, most of them,” said Portia with no little pride. “This is the last one we need, though. We’ll be there in a jiffy.” 

“I... don’t think you actually mentioned where we’re going,” said Meleia. 

Julian’s expression instantly darkened. “The one place we’re sure no one is going to be.” 

Before Meleia could ask what in the world _ that _ was supposed to mean, Portia pushed aside a hidden door. Light flooded into the passage, momentarily blinding Meleia. When at last she could see again, her chin dropped in sheer shock. 

It was the biggest room she had ever seen. She wouldn’t have been surprised if the entire shop fit inside it. And all the furniture and decorations... it was simply incredible. The vast chamber was like a workshop, a bedroom, a museum, and a library all in one. One wall was entirely covered in shelves packed to the brim with books... and every single tiny space that the books left behind was crammed with a stone or a crystal or a jar of something sparkling. Close to the center of the room, but relatively closer to the shelves than anything else, was the most ornate bed that Meleia had ever seen. A desk sat on the opposite end of the room, perfectly positioned under a wide window to catch the light. And all that was only the start. An enormous wardrobe, tapestries and portraits on the walls, and doors that looked like they might have led to a balcony all caught Meleia’s eye before Julian pulled her attention back to the situation at hand. 

“Damian’s chambers,” said Julian. HIs voice was tight. “They’ve searched here a dozen times already. It’s about the one place we’re sure Damian _ isn’t _.” 

Meleia nodded grimly. She understood all too well. 

“It would have been quiet even if Damian _ were _ here,” said Portia. 

She almost sounded like she were trying to convince Julian that they had made the right choice. But she was looking right at Meleia. 

“Damian spends hours in here,” she explained. “Almost everyone knows that you don’t ever open this door without knocking.” 

“I... guess that helps,” said Meleia. 

It sounded stupid, and she knew it. But she didn’t know what else to say. She wasn’t sure what else she was _ supposed _ to say. 

Julian’s eyes swept the room. He didn’t exactly look _ sad, _ per se. He didn’t seem close to breaking into tears, at any rate. But he looked... drained, somehow. Empty. Just like the room. 

“Well.” Julian cleared his throat. “No one will bother us. Which is... which is good. We’ve got work to do.” 

“Right,” said Meleia. She tried to sound more confident than she felt. 

“I’ll make sure everything else is set up for your official royal meeting,” said Portia. “You just worry about being a princess.” 

She gave Meleia a pat on the shoulder. It was probably supposed to be a warm, reassuring gesture. But Meleia couldn’t help but feel that she’d just added onto the pressure. 

Julian caught her eye. And his expression got caught somewhere between a smirk and a genuine, almost laugh-like smile. 

“Don’t worry,” he said in a tone that just made Meleia worry more, “I’ll make a royal out of her yet. My work’s already halfway done, anyway. Look at her.” 

Meleia automatically tried to hide behind her hair, forgetting that it was still tied back in a braid. So she settled for burying her face in Forge’s fur. 

Portia giggled. “Yep. That looks like royalty to me.” 

Meleia was very glad no one could see her blush. She was certain her entire face was as red as a tomato. 

“Good luck, you two,” Portia called. 

“Likewise,” said Julian. 

Portia went back out through the same passage they’d come in. Meleia peeked over Forge’s head to watch. The secret entrance turned out to be behind one of the portraits. The instant Portia pulled the frame back into place, the entrance completely disappeared. Even though she’d gone through the tunnel herself, Meleia found it hard to believe the tunnel had been there at all. 

Then she got a good look at the portrait. It was a life-size painting of two people. One, a purple-haired woman who sat elegantly in an ornate chair, must have been queen Nadia. The other was a boy, probably about thirteen or fourteen. His brown hair nearly fell over his eyes. He wore a crown, though it looked far too big for him. And he seemed rather uncomfortable in his overly elegant royal robes. But he still stood tall. And he was still smiling. 

Meleia was looking at a young Prince Damian. The picture made something in her heart wrench. It was obvious that he’d always done whatever he could to be the best prince he could possibly be. 

Meleia would just have to follow his example. She’d just have to be the best _ princess _ she could be. 

How could she possibly do otherwise? 

“I have to find that book,” said Julian, jerking Meleia out of her thoughts. “Make yourself comfortable. This... ah... this might take a minute.” 

Meleia still didn’t quite feel like she was worthy of setting foot inside the palace itself, let alone exploring Prince Damian’s chambers. She barely risked taking a few steps forward. 

Forge, on the other hand, had no such reservations. He wriggled out of Meleia’s arms, dropped onto the floor, and made a mad dash for the bed. 

“Forge, no!” Meleia called. 

Forge paid her no mind. With an enormous leap, he flopped right on top of the bed. He proceeded to roll around in absolute bliss, messing up the sheets in the process. 

Meleia sighed. They could _ seriously _ get in trouble for that. 

Then again, they were bound to get into much _ worse _ trouble if they were found out. And that looked like so much fun. Not to mention the bed looking incredibly comfortable. Far more comfortable than a mat on the floor, anyway. 

She managed to resist for a full five seconds. Then she dropped her bag and ran to join Forge. She somehow managed to twist herself in midair and flop down on her back. The bed bounced under her. It actually _ bounced. _ It was _ that _ soft. 

Meleia couldn’t help but let out a sigh of sheer contentment. This was _ bliss. _

How wonderful it must have been to sleep in a bed like this every night. To wake up in such a beautiful room. To have people there for you, ready to help you when you needed them. 

That thought made Meleia’s heart wrench all over again. 

“Aha!” Julian cried suddenly, making Meleia jump. “Here we are.” 

Meleia sat up, watching as Julian brought an enormous old book over to a music stand. He turned the stand so Meleia could see the book’s cover. It was so well-used that she couldn’t even make out the title. 

“The Book of Royal Etiquette,” Julian announced with a flourish. “Absolutely everything you’ll need to know about being a princess is written in these very pages.” 

Meleia got to her feet. Julian looked almost excited again. He must have been eager to be a tutor once more. Meleia could only hope she’d be a halfway decent student. 

“Now, then.” Julian turned to a dog-eared page. “Are you ready, Your Nevivon Highness?” 

Meleia took a deep breath. “As I’ll ever be.”


	17. Locked Door, Barred Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Damian tries to make an escape... or just an escape plan, that works, too.

Damian had thought that being forced to marry the Majestro would be the most world-shattering situation he could have been in. 

But that was before he’d been knocked out, tied up, and locked in an old cabin in the middle of nowhere. 

It was almost laughable, really. How quickly one’s opinions could change... 

It had been even more horrible at first, when he hadn’t known what was going on. One moment, he was trying to get Oswald out of a cage... a cage that he hadn’t even stopped to question. The next, he’d woken up on the floor of an unfamiliar carriage, hands tied behind his back, with an unfamiliar man hovering above him. 

He’d tried to break free, of course. Despite his pounding headache and bound wrists, he tried to find a way out. But nothing he did had made any difference. Not even calling his captors a few choice words that a prince definitely wasn’t supposed to know. These particular words were more akin to those commonly attributed to sailors. Which made sense, since he’d copied them from Julian. 

Another thing that was nearly funny: now that he was locked up in his tiny room, Damian couldn’t stop thinking about Julian. Julian would be so worried when he found out. Damian almost wished Julian were with him right then and there. Not that he wanted his tutor captured, of course. But any help in this situation would have been appreciated. Even Oswald being there would have made a difference... 

Oh, gods. Oswald. 

Damian had no idea where Oswald was. He had no idea if Oswald was even still _ alive. _

He spent a long while mentally kicking himself for being such a fool. He should have thought before he dove in. He was usually so cautious, but when it came to helping his friends... well, he could have afforded to use a bit more discretion. Not that he had any intention of leaving the people who needed him to suffer.

And yet, look at where it had gotten him. Dragged into an old, abandoned cabin by two complete strangers. One of them, who wore some kind of bright red armor or something with a rather beetle-like helmet, had picked him up and hauled him over to the cabin so effortlessly that Damian’s struggles were about as effective as a mouse trying to wriggle out of a panther’s claws. 

The memory made Damian subconsciously rub at his arm where his captor’s gauntlets had dug into his skin. He wasn’t bleeding, thankfully, but the gauntlet had shredded right through his tunic and left sizable scratches.

At least his hands were free, now. That was the first thing the armored person had done before shoving him into the room so hard he toppled to the floor. Damian didn’t even get a chance to stand up before the door had been slammed in his face. 

Naturally, the first thing Damian had done was lurch to his feet and throw himself at the door. He nearly pulled the handle off in his attempt to get out. But it was locked tight. 

The cottage may have been old and dilapidated, but the door seemed to work just fine. 

He’d kept trying. He’d shouted. He’d used his most princely voice to command them to open the door _ that instant, _ or there would be _ severe _ consequences. 

For a split second, he’d almost believed it would work. One of his captors-- the one with the more nasal voice, so probably the gray-haired man-- whined that Damian needed to stop shouting. He even went so far as to come right up to the door, judging by the footsteps. 

Then the other one started yelling, their voice easily drowning out Damian’s. 

“You _ idiot! _ ” they bellowed. “ _ What do you think you’re doing? _” 

There was a thud then, as though the grey-haired one had just been punched. 

“Vulgora, please, you’re even louder than _ he _ is!” the nasal voice protested. “I can hardly hear myself think!”

“Clearly!” the other-- apparently Vulgora-- snapped. “Because you’re _ not _ thinking! At _ all! _ We can’t just _ open the door! _ He’ll escape!” 

“But he’s being so noisy...” Nasal-Voice complained. “And he _ is _ the prince. We’re going to get in big trouble if we don’t--”

“I don’t care _ what _ he is!” Vulgora roared. “ _ We’re _ in charge, now! If you don’t _ sit down _ and _ stop snivelling, _ I will _ personally _ deal with you long before the boss even gets the chance to _ think _ about taking back your reward!” 

That made Nasal-Voice whimper again. But after that he stayed quiet. 

Damian pulled away from the door just a bit, breathing heavily. His mind was whirling. He started to pace, circling the tiny room as he tried to put his thoughts in order. The goons probably didn’t realize it, but they’d just thrown him a considerable amount of information. Now Damian just had to figure out what to do with it. 

He still wasn’t sure who these people were, but he had a name now. Vulgora. Unfortunately, it didn’t mean anything to him. If he had to hazard a guess, Vulgora must have been some kind of soldier or warrior. A mercenary, maybe? That would explain this “boss” they had mentioned. Were Vulgora and Nasal-Voice part of some kind of group? Damian half wished he’d paid more attention when Count Lucio kept going on and on about his “good old days” as a soldier for hire. Maybe he’d run into a cohort with signature red-beetle armor before. 

Gods, he was starting to think of Lucio in something resembling a positive light. Damian was in _ serious _ trouble. 

His train of thought was momentarily interrupted by the distant clattering of hooves. Damian instantly glanced around, looking for a way to see what was going on... only to find that the only window was completely boarded up. He tried to peek through, but it was nearly impossible to see anything. He could only make out a few blurred shapes. And something else seemed to be blocking his view. Maybe a tree, maybe some kind of animal. 

He pulled back with a groan of frustration. No answers there. 

Not knowing what else to do, Damian headed towards the door again. He automatically tried to open it once more, but, of course, nothing happened. He listened carefully, trying to figure out who might have been visiting this mysterious cottage. This boss of theirs, probably. Maybe, if he were careful, he could catch another name. 

But all he heard was a scuffle as Vulgora and Nasal-Voice fought fiercely-- albeit surprisingly quietly-- over who would get to open the door. Apparently, Vulgora won. Damian could distinctly hear Nasal-Voice huffing as a door creaked open. 

But he couldn’t hear anything else. Just whispers that he couldn’t possibly make out. 

Damian slammed his fist against the door to his little room. 

None of this was helping. 

He had to get _ out. _

His every instinct was screaming at him to break the door down. But that hadn’t worked. So he went to try to break the wooden planks that barred the window. He didn’t have any tools to use. Not even a chair to try to smash the window open. 

It didn’t matter. His bare hands would have to do. 

He tried. He tried through Vulgora’s entire conversation with the newcomer. He kept trying when he heard the far-too-distant-sounding door slam shut. He kept trying when he heard Vulgora and Nasal-Voice start arguing again. Damian didn’t even bother attempting to listen to what they were fighting about this time. All his attention and energy was spent on his escape attempt.

He shoved and pushed and pummeled and tried to pry the planks apart even tried a few well-placed kicks. He kept trying when his entire body started getting sore. He kept trying even when his alchemy gloves grew scratched beyond repair. 

This was his only way out. He _ had _ to keep trying. 

Damian might have kept on attempting to break the planks off the window until his fingers bled. And probably beyond that. But he was interrupted by an odd sound. It was a horrible, discordant echo, like wings flapping and heavy thuds like footsteps and a high-pitched shrieking all in one. 

That sound couldn’t have been made by anything human. Nor was it from any animal Damian could recognize. It must have been some sort of mysterious, dangerous creature. 

And the sound was coming from _ this room. _

Damian whirled around. His heart pounded so violently that he was afraid the _ whatever _ it was in the room with him would hear it. If it hadn’t smelled him already. 

He scanned the room, looking for some sign of what creature might have found him. At last, he spotted something. Well, _ two _ something’s technically. For one, there was a fireplace in this room. He hadn’t even noticed it until now. And the only reason he _ did _ was the fact that it must have been the source of the sound. Puffs of soot and dirt fell through the chimney, scattering across the already dirty floor. 

The fireplace was small. No way for Damian to use it as a way out. But clearly, something _ else _ had managed to use it as a way _ in. _

Damian took a slow step back, eyeing the chimney warily. His hand automatically groped around for something, _ anything _, that he might possibly use to defend himself. Of course, he turned up empty. 

There was one more screech. One more thud. And then an enormous _ whumph _ as something tumbled out of the fireplace. It rolled across the floor, spreading soot absolutely everywhere. Damian tried to press back further, but he just wound up against the wall. 

The thing rolled to a stop. It stood up on two legs that were so small they were almost invisible. And it spread out its wings, flapping around in a clear attempt to clean itself off. 

It still took Damian way too long to realize what was going on. He didn’t make the connection until he saw the creature’s enormous ears flick back to their regular position. Even then he had to blink several times before anything made sense again. 

“_Oswald? _” he gasped. 

Sure enough, the little bat had managed to find his way here. Oswald looked up at Damian with wide, distressed eyes. He held his wings about halfway up, letting more soot puff off him and drift to the floor. The entire effect was absolutely pathetic. 

Damian didn’t care. He’d never been happier to see him. 

“Oswald!” 

Damian dashed forward and scooped the little bat up into his arms. He nearly crushed Oswald in a hug, not remotely bothered by the fact that the soot got all over his work clothes. 

“How in the world did you get here?” Damian wondered aloud. “And out of that cage! I bet that was quite a daring escape, wasn’t it? You little genius!” 

He lifted Oswald up to his eye level, grinning like an utter moron. And he pressed his nose against Oswald’s little snout. 

Oswald leaned back a bit, startled. But then he relaxed. And he rubbed up against Damian’s cheek. 

Damian let himself cling onto Oswald for a little longer. Then he set the bat gently down on the poor excuse for a bed. 

“I really am glad you’re here,” said Damian, much more quietly now. “But we’re both in serious trouble.” 

He knew it was silly to talk to Oswald like that. But he felt like he needed to talk to _ someone. _ Even if the conversation was one-sided, it was nice to have a much more friendly one than he could hope for with his captors. 

Oswald’s ears twitched. It almost seemed like the bat completely understood the situation. 

Somewhat heartened, Damian kept talking. 

“The best I can figure, they’re after some kind of ransom,” he said. He started pacing again. “They mentioned something about a _ boss, _ and an eventual reward.” 

Oswald chirped. Damian managed a crooked sort of smile. It really was like they were talking to each other. 

“We have to find some way out of here,” Damian went on. “I can use their horse to get back to the palace. As much as I’d like to see these two captured straight away...” 

Oswald made a sound that was closer to a growl this time. 

“Agreed,” Damian chuckled. “But right now, our priority has to be getting back to the palace before the Majestro finds out something went wrong.” 

Oswald’s ears drooped. Damian barely noticed. He was too busy trying to come up with a plan. 

“The question is _ how, _” Damian went on. “The door’s locked. Even if we could get it open, I don’t relish the idea of going against that Vulgora character.” 

Oswald clearly agreed. 

“I tried the window, but... no luck.” Damian sighed. “If there were some way to trick those two crooks, to get them to open the door... I’d be willing to bet we could fool the gray-haired one. But Vulgora might be too sharp for us. Though they do seem a bit... battle-hardened. Perhaps if we gave them some sort of enemy to fight... or made the two of them fight one another. But how?” 

Oswald made a sad sort of noise. Clearly, the bat didn’t have any ideas either. 

Damian kept pacing. There had to be something. Oswald got in. There had to be a way out, there just _ had _ to be. Damian couldn’t sit here forever. And he couldn’t afford to wait around until rescue showed up. 

_ If _ rescue showed up. 

No. He couldn’t think about that. Focus, he had to _ focus. _

What did he have on hand? The sad answer to that was a solid _ not much. _ The room was sparse. The bed hardly even had any blankets, just an old white sheet. He supposed he could have made some kind of escape rope with it, which would have been at least somewhat helpful if they weren’t on the ground floor. 

But perhaps he could make something else. 

His usual method of problem-solving wouldn’t work here. There was no time for trial and error. No information to sort through. And all but slamming himself into the door over and over again wasn’t earning him anything but a sore shoulder. Not to mention how much his hands hurt from trying to pry the boards off of the window. 

No. He would have to try a different approach. He’d have to take a page from Julian’s book. 

It was time to get theatrical. 

Damian’s gaze flickered from the sheet itself to the soot stains that Oswald had left to the rather shaken but still very capable and intelligent bat himself. A plan was slowly starting to form. 

It would take a bit of work. And a little more research to see if it had any chance of succeeding at all. And it would need an awful lot of luck if he had any chance of pulling it off. 

But it just might have been crazy enough to work. 

“Oswald?” 

Oswald perked up. 

“I think I have an idea,” said Damian. “But I need your help. And we’re going to have to do a bit of rehearsal.” 

Oswald tilted his head to the side. Damian had to take that as a sign that the bat was ready to help. 

“Alright.” Damian gently moved Oswald over to the rickety table and picked up the sheet. “You make sure you can still fly. I’ll work on your costume.”


	18. To Be a Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we embark on the traditional Princess Training Montage. And also Julian fawns over Damian a little more.

“Now, where do we start?” Julian muttered, more to himself than Meleia. 

Julian had turned his attention back to the Royal Etiquette book. His entire demeanor had changed. Meleia could only assume he’d abandoned his Community Theater Performer mode and gone into his Palace Tutor persona. 

“Dining etiquette?” Julian mused. “It would certainly be useful. I can almost guarantee the Queen will invite you to join her for dinner. She does that for all royal guests.” 

Meleia paled. Her? Dining with the _ Queen? _

Julian glanced up at her. He stifled a laugh. 

“What?” said Meleia, embarrassed. 

“Are you worried about dinner?” Julian asked, almost teasing. “You needn’t be. The look on your face... you didn’t think we weren’t going to _ feed _ you, did you?” 

Meleia managed to stay silent. She hadn’t really considered food at _ all. _ It seemed to be the least of her worries. 

Julian sobered up a bit. He must have noticed how completely overwhelmed she felt. Despite how hard she had been trying to hide that exact feeling.

She felt horrible for making it so obvious. She’d never wanted to bother them with her silly feelings. Both Julian and Portia were already doing so much for her. They were risking their necks just as much as she was, if not more so. And all because they trusted her. All because Julian believed that she could really do something to help. 

She couldn’t make them worry. She couldn’t be a burden. 

How she felt about all this hardly mattered, anyway. What counted was seeing this through. Was making sure all of them got out of this in one piece. 

“Why don’t you put that dress on?” Julian suggested gently. “I’ll take a moment to go over my old notes. See if I can find the best place to start.” 

Meleia attempted to peer at the book over Julian’s shoulder... which was practically impossible, since Julian was nearly a full foot taller than her. 

“You scribbled notes on the Royal Book of Etiquette?” she asked. “And you... dog-eared the pages?” 

She wasn’t sure if she were more amazed or offended. It was an odd mix of both. She’d always loved books, but she’d never owned nearly enough of them. Each one she did have was like a priceless treasure. To see a _ royal _ book so... well, so poorly taken care of was almost as foreign to her as the idea of living in the palace for one’s entire life. She couldn’t help but wonder if that were a palace thing or just a Julian thing. 

Julian’s face instantly turned nearly as red as his hair. “W-well I, uh, took a few notes?”

Meleia scanned the completely illegible scribbles. They covered every margin, and more than a few of the paragraphs had been written over. There were even some doodles. The drawings were rather surprisingly good, considering his utterly terrible handwriting. 

“Looks like more than just a few,” she mumbled. 

“I was just trying to make sense of a few things.” Julian looked distinctly guilty. “Clarify some points. Improve the guide, even.” 

Meleia raised an eyebrow, completely skeptical. But she said nothing. 

Julian cleared his throat. “Let’s just get started, shall we? Plenty to do, and no time to waste! I’ll just make sure my, uh, notes are all... all in order.” 

He hastily turned his back on Meleia and huddled over the book. Meleia took the hint. She’d used similar enough tactics in the backroom of her shop plenty of times. Most of those times happened to involve trying to hide her shame from Valerius. Each attempt then probably worked about as well as Julian’s attempt to hide his embarrassment did now. 

Damian had been right. She and Julian really _ were _ similar. 

Thinking about the wonderful conversation she’d had with Damian, not to mention the fact that they had really become friends in such a short time, just made her heart wrench all over again. 

More determined than ever, she ducked behind a screen that had been tucked in a far corner and got herself dressed as best as she could. This dress was far more elaborate than anything else she’d ever worn. She knew _ how _ to get it on, of course; she’d done enough fittings by now to know how every dress in the shop worked. But getting a gown on by yourself was a difficult feat. She was certain she’d gotten things wrong. 

Julian rambled on the entire time she was getting ready, mumbling about rule after rule. Meleia couldn’t possibly follow everything, so she tried to keep her focus on her gown. By the time she slid out from behind the screen, Julian seemed to have come to some sort of a conclusion. He had the book in his hands now, and he was grinning. 

“Are you ready?” he asked. “I’ve found the perfect starting point. Before you even set _ foot _ into the dining hall, you need to know how to...” 

He trailed off. He’d finally gotten a good look at her. 

“Woah,” he breathed. 

Meleia blushed. “That bad?” 

Even Forge lifted his head up, finally somewhat getting up from the prince’s incredibly comfortable bed to look at Meleia as well. His ears instantly perked up. He let out a little yip that sounded rather happy. At least, judging by the way his tail wagged. 

“No, not at all!” said Julian. “That is, er, it’s not _ bad_. At all. You look lovely, actually.” 

She probably should have been reassured by that, but she ended up just blushing more. 

“If I hadn’t met you beforehand, I wouldn’t have any trouble believing you’re a princess,” Julian went on. “Though that skirt is a little twisted. Should be more even over the petticoat, shouldn’t it?” 

Without so much as a real warning, Julian went right up to Meleia and fluffed out her skirts. Somehow, he managed to snag them even though Meleia had lurched back in alarm. She was _ not _ used to people getting so close to her so quickly. 

“Sorry,” Julian said quickly. 

“I-it’s fine,” Meleia stuttered. 

“Should be fine now, at least,” said Julian, stepping back. “I mean, I’m not exactly the expert on gowns. Pasha’s had much more experience with dressing royalty. But it should work. For now. Until Pasha officially fixes you up.” 

“So... it doesn’t look bad?” said Meleia, completely confused. 

Julian laughed. “It doesn’t look bad. See for yourself.” 

He gestured grandly towards a full length mirror. Meleia found herself marveling at the mirror for a moment. It was far bigger and fancier than even the mirrors the patrons used during fittings back at the shop. It was a silly thing to focus on, and she knew it, but a part of her still wasn’t quite ready to look at her reflection. She never should have picked out this dress. She was sure to look ridiculous, and completely out of place. There was no way she deserved to be wearing it. 

But, at last, she got up the courage to look. 

Julian was right. It wasn’t bad. 

The full skirt was a bit too long for her, making it pool on the floor. And her usual braid did _ not _ go well with the dress at all. But she really liked the way the short sleeves puffed over her shoulders, layered like flower petals. And the bodice made her look a lot prettier than she really was. She’d been right about the color, too. Dark blue seemed to suit her pretty well. 

She didn’t really think she looked like a princess. But she certainly looked better than she ever had before. 

None of that stopped her from almost absently starting to undo her braid. She could only hope that helped. At least a little. 

“Don’t worry,” said Julian. “Pasha can take care of your hair. She’s incredible at it, too.”

Meleia just nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak. And she didn’t stop taking out her braid. As soon as that was done, she raked her fingers through her hair as though trying to brush it. All that she managed was to make her already rather messy curls even puffier. Oh, well. 

“All _ we _ need to deal with are the accessories,” said Julian. 

Meleia raised an eyebrow. As far as she was concerned, Julian sounded _ way _ too happy about the idea of accessorizing her. 

He circled around her, doing a full inspection of her dress. “You’ll likely need a pair of gloves,” he mused. 

“Gloves?” Meleia repeated. She automatically clasped her hands behind her back. “Why do I need gloves?” 

“A few reasons,” said Julian. “For one thing, long gloves tend to add an air of elegance. Perhaps even... a mysterious allure?” 

He shot her an over-the-top, crooked sort of grin. Meleia ignored that, instead glancing over his own gloves, which were probably part of his palace uniform. Looking at those, the whole _ mysterious allure _ idea was completely unconvincing. 

“For another...” 

Julian ducked behind her and gently eased her hands into his own, twisting her to face him in the process. He held her hands carefully in his own, lifting them up closer to his eye level. The move was so weird that it took Meleia a moment to figure out that he was essentially inspecting her hands. 

“Most royalty doesn’t have any scars or calluses,” said Julian awkwardly. 

Meleia self-consciously pulled her hands back. She clasped them in front of her and turned away from Julian. Her shoulders automatically hunched protectively. She was ready for the blowout. Ready for a tirade about how worthless she was. 

She should have known Julian would never do that. But it was still a surprise when the tirade didn’t come. 

“Sorry,” he said instead. “I, uh, didn’t really mean it like that. It’s... you know. Worker’s hands. Royals tend to avoid what most consider more menial tasks.” 

“Like sewing?” said Meleia, only half-teasing. 

“Well, needlepoint is usually fair game,” Julian chuckled. “But a royal certainly wouldn’t have the same marks as a seamstress.” 

Meleia found herself hiding her hands again. 

“I’ll see if I can find some gloves while Pasha’s getting you all dressed up,” said Julian quickly. “In the meantime, we’ll need some sort of crown for you. Let’s see... Damian probably won’t mind if I borrow some of these, will he?” He flushed, apparently terrified by his own idea. “He won’t. I’m sure he won’t. And if he is, it’s for a good cause. And I can set everything back to normal, no problem. It’ll be fine.” 

Meleia couldn’t possibly form any response, since she had absolutely no idea what Julian was talking about. She could only watch in utter bemusement as Julian grabbed a few odds and ends off of Damian’s bookshelves. Somehow, he managed to twist a few strings and a handful of small crystals into something resembling a circlet. At least, that’s what Meleia had to assume it was. It was hard to tell from the way he was showing it off, holding it up in both hands with a grin so wide he looked like a little kid. Meleia half expected him to say _ ta-dah. _ More than that, she was rather surprised that he _ didn’t _. 

“What do you think?” Julian asked. “Matches your necklace, doesn’t it?” 

Meleia’s hands automatically fluttered to her necklace. It wasn’t anything special, just a trio of small, pinkish crystals held on a simple cord with nothing more than intricate knots. She normally kept the necklace underneath her collar. She knew that Valerius wouldn’t approve. 

But she’d hardly ever gone a day without it. She _ needed _ it. It wasn’t worth much money, of course, but it was worth a great deal to her. 

“I... I should probably take this off, shouldn’t I?” said Meleia. Her face was burning in shame. 

Julian blinked. “What? Why?” 

“It’s nothing special,” Meleia mumbled. “Not worthy of a princess.” 

It hurt her to say that. To her, the necklace was almost unbearably special. But she knew she was right. It was old-- she didn’t know _ how _ old, exactly, but she’d had it for as long as she could remember-- the cord was frayed, and the crystals weren’t even beautiful enough to pretend they were expensive or imported or whatever. She knew she couldn’t keep it here. No matter how much she may want to. 

For a long moment, Julian was silent. Meleia didn’t dare turn around, didn’t dare look to see what his expression might be. 

“Well, would you look at that,” Julian said after a moment. “There’s absolutely nothing in this entire book that says a princess can’t wear crystals.” 

Meleia gasped. She stared up at Julian in surprise. He had apparently been leafing through the Etiquette book again, since he grinned at her over the pages.

“And since it’s so clearly something dear to you... don’t worry, I won’t pry!” he added, raising his hands in mock surrender at the look on Meleia’s face. “I don’t need to know all the details. If it’s important to you, I would never force you to give it up.” 

Meleia’s cheeks turned red again. But she couldn’t exactly blame embarrassment this time. 

“Besides...” 

Julian slipped behind her and gently wove his makeshift tiara into her hair. 

“It suits you,” he said. 

Meleia’s blush only grew. She thought she looked more like a bruised tomato than a princess. But for the first time, she felt like she might actually be able to pull this off. If nothing else, Julian believed she could. She’d never had anyone really believe in her like that. Not even Volta. Volta looked up to her. Maybe even admired her at times. And Volta certainly _ depended _on Meleia. She needed Meleia’s help. 

But someone truly trusting her, truly believing in her? That wasn’t something Meleia was used to. At all. 

She still didn’t quite think she trused herself. 

“Well, Princess Meleia,” said Julian gallantly, interrupting her thoughts, “now that you _ look _ the part, it’s time we’re sure you can play the part.” 

Meleia stared at him, still rather confused. Julian abruptly went back over to the book. He glanced at it for a split second before turning back to Meleia. 

“Let’s start with your posture,” he said, back in Tutor Mode. “Every royal needs to maintain a regal gait. An elegant, imposing stance.” 

“Meaning...?” asked Meleia. 

“Shoulders back,” Julian commanded. “Hold your head high.” 

Meleia reacted instantly. She jerked her shoulders backwards and lifted her chin up. 

Julian raised an eyebrow. He looked rather amused. 

“Not quite like that,” he chuckled. “I believe you’ve overcompensated.” 

Meleia slumped, disappointed in herself. 

Julian hummed in thought. He surveyed her for a moment. “Let’s look at it another way. How do you stand when you’re singing?” 

When she was singing? Meleia automatically shifted her stance. She stood taller, straighter, but kept her shoulders more relaxed. In a moment, she was perfectly balanced. 

“There we are!” said Julian, triumphant. “Perfect. Now, can you walk like that?” 

Meleia walked. She had only taken a few steps when Julian snatched a much smaller book off of the prince’s shelves and plopped it directly on her head. Meleia froze. 

“What’s that for?” she asked, half-laughing. 

Julian wagged a finger at her as though chiding her. “Now, now! A princess must never show confusion.” 

A true laugh bubbled out of Meleia at that. Julian grinned. 

“It’s true!” he said, unrepentant. “Like I said. Elegance. _ Confidence _. Why, you must simply glide across the floor!” 

He offered her his arm in a very noble way. Meleia tried to accept it, ending up wrapping her arm awkwardly around his. He chuckled good naturedly and corrected her. Together, they strode across the room. Meleia balanced the book perfectly the whole while. It really _ was _ like singing in front of a crowd. 

“Perfect!” Julian cried after they had taken a full lap around the room. “You’re an absolute natural.” 

“I don’t know about that,” said Meleia, flushing. 

“Oh, but I do,” said Julian. “I know a _ lot _ about it. Trust me, perfect posture isn’t all that simple.”

It seemed rather simple to Meleia. But she didn’t really have the heart to protest further. Especially when even Forge seemed happy about all this. HIs tail was wagging furiously. 

“But posture is only the first step,” Julian went on. “Let’s try a curtsey, shall we?” 

He released Meleia’s arm and gently lifted the book off of her head. This set her free to show him her best curtsey. It wasn’t a particularly good one. She was awfully wobbly, and her much fuller skirts were harder to get a handle on. 

She expected Julian to laugh. She winced, preparing herself for the inevitable teasing. 

“Try holding your skirt in both hands,” Julian suggested. “And your foot doesn’t need to travel so far. Your right foot-- or whichever one aligns with your dominant hand, really-- should only be a few inches behind your other one. That way you won’t have to try to balance on your toes.” 

This response was so completely unexpected, and so surprisingly helpful, that it took Meleia a while to fully process it. But she took his advice. And her curtsey was far smoother this time. 

“Much better,” Julian said with a nod. “Now, since the Queen and the Majestro are technically both higher-status than a princess...” 

Meleia bit her lip nervously. She almost wanted to mention that they were _ much _ higher status than a shopkeep, but she didn’t quite dare interrupt him. 

“You’ll need to hold that pose a little longer than you would for, say, a duke or count or something,” Julain instructed. “Shall we give it another try?” 

“Like this?” Meleia curtseyed again, managing to dip a bit lower this time. She even kept her head down respectfully. 

“Exactly.” Julian grinned at her as she straightened up. “LIke I said. A natural.” 

Meleia wondered how red her cheeks could possibly get. But she was smiling nonetheless. 

This was all still terrifying. But it was getting almost exciting. She’d never been a natural at anything before. Besides singing, she supposed. 

And really, this didn’t seem all that different. So far. 

From then on, things went surprisingly smoothly. Royal protocol was a breeze. It was all about being polite and respectful, even when you disagreed. Meleia’d had plenty of practice at that working with patrons at Valerius’ shop. She’d had similar experience with keeping an outward calm, though that was always more of a challenge. Especially considering she was so nervous. But she understood the concept, at least, so Julian gave her a pass on that. Having tea with her pinkie lifted seemed ridiculous and unnecessary, but easy. And Julian seemed particularly impressed when she caught a very quick grasp of discussing trade. This was the one thing they were both absolutely certain would come up, as it was a rather large part for her excuse to be in the castle... for the Princess of Nevivon’s visit. Meleia was _ determined _ not to mess that part up. Once again, she wound up being very thankful for her work in the shop. She knew full well how important a few coins could be. 

Not everything was quite as simple. Neither of them could figure out how to remember much about the various ports of the small seaside kingdom that was Nevivon until Julian came up with a little song for it. Memorizing which table settings were which was a lot harder, especially with only Julian’s scribbled notes and hand-drawn pictures as a guide. Meleia couldn’t understand why anyone would need so many different pieces of silverware in the first place. When she continued to get the tea spoon confused with the dessert spoon, Julian sort of gave up. 

“You know, all you really need to remember is that you go from the outside in,” Julian admitted. “If it’s the farthest away from the plate at the moment, you’re usually safe.” 

“_ That _ I can remember,” Meleia laughed. 

Julian flashed her a grin. “Glad to hear it. Well, then, what’s next? We’ve covered decorum, and all the more minor details... perhaps a bit more showmanship? It’s possible Her Majesty will try to keep the two of you entertained.” 

“The two of us?” Meleia repeated. 

“Both yourself and the Majestro,” said Julian. “You’ll probably be working alongside him.” 

The thought of working with the Majestro made Meleia horribly nervous all over again. She’d almost forgotten about that little detail.

“I’m sure music won’t be a problem,” Julian mused. “Especially considering you’re already a rather renowned singer.” 

Meleia shrugged a little helplessly. _ Renowned _ wasn’t close to the word she would use, but princesses weren’t supposed to argue.

Julian started leafing through the etiquette book again. 

“We’ve already discussed a particularly fancy dinner,” he mumbled, probably thinking aloud. “And I highly doubt she’ll throw a true ball at this state...”

Then he paused. And Julian’s eyes got an almost mischievous gleam. 

“How’s your dancing, Your Princess-ness?” he asked. 

Meleia flushed all over again. “Not as good as it should be...” 

Julian chuckled. He flicked the book closed. It thudded shut with an almost defiant snap. 

“Not to worry,” said Julian in that very worrying tone. “I doubt you’ll have much call for it, but, just in case...” 

He instantly snatched up her hands. He guided one to his shoulder and held the other out wide. It was a pose Meleia had seen both in countless books and occasionally out on the streets, though she’d never had the chance to try anything like it herself. Not really. Spinning around their little backroom at the shop daydreaming about being someone far more noble didn’t count. Not as a _ real _ waltz. 

Reality slammed into her. Oh, gods. Julian was going to teach her how to waltz. Or, at least, he was going to try. 

This was _ nothing _ like learning about how to be nice to people. 

“Relax,” said Julian. “It’s likely the Majestro will lead. He _ is _ taller than you. As far as I know.” 

“Not reassuring,” Meleia mumbled. 

“Fair point,” said Julian with an awkward cough. “Nevertheless, you don’t have to worry about leading if you don’t want to. All you will need to do is follow. Ready?” 

“No,” said Meleia. 

“Perfect,” Julian laughed. “Let’s get started. And one, two, three... one, two, three...” 

Julian swept across the room, dragging Meleia helplessly along with him. It didn’t take long for her to figure out the pattern-- one long step, then two short steps-- but actually _ doing _ it was another matter entirely. It didn’t help that Julian had such ridiculously long limbs. Even when Meleia started to get the hang of things, she continuously managed to step on Julian’s feet.

“Sorry!” she said for the fourth or fifth time, after the fourth or fifth time she’d accidentally stomped on him. 

Instead of quipping her concern away, as he’d done every other time, Julian let out a laugh. 

“Really, Meleia, you’re doing beautifully for your first attempt,” he assured her. 

Meleia highly doubted that. “Are your feet okay?” 

“Ha!” Julian flashed her a grin. “Of course. That’s why these boots are so sturdy. Perfect protection from everything from wayward toes to stray cannonballs.” 

Meleia frowned, utterly unconvinced. 

“Besides,” Julian went on, “you’re dainty as a feather. I barely even feel it.” 

“Stop it,” Meleia flushed. “I’m completely crushing your toes, aren’t I?” 

“Not at all!” Julian insisted. “If you think _ this _ is bad, you should have seen the first time I tried to teach Damian how to waltz.” 

Meleia blinked. “You taught Damian how to dance?” 

“Of course,” said Julian. “I _ am _ his tutor, after all. I’ve been giving him lessons in all sorts of topics for years now. But we, uh, had to find someone else to teach him guitar. I’m rather hopeless at it.” 

For a split second, he looked embarrassed. But then his usual grin was back. He waggled his eyebrows. 

“I do play a mean vielle, though,” he declared. “You should have heard the duets Damian and I would play...”

“I wish I could,” said Meleia earnestly. “It must have been amazing.” 

A soft smile played across Julian’s lips. “Spending time with Damian always is. Sharpest pupil I’ve ever had. Not that I’ve had a lot of them, but... once he puts his mind to something, he’ll do whatever it takes to see it through, powering through anything that dares to stand in his way. Nothing can hold him back for long.” 

“Not even dancing?” Meleia teased. 

Julian chuckled. “Not even dancing. I do admit, though, he can be rather clumsy... it’s almost endearing, really. You never can take your eyes off of him. And even when you _ don’t _ , he _ still _ might wind up in a mess. I swear, I watched his feet that _ entire _ first dance lesson, and yet he stepped on my feet so many times that my toes were bruised for a week!” 

Meleia couldn’t help it. She giggled. 

“Really? _ That _ bad?”

“And I heal incredibly quickly, if I do say so myself, which makes it even _ more _impressive,” Julian laughed. “You’d never know it to look at him, would you? Ah, but he makes up for it in so many ways.”

Meleia raised an eyebrow. She’d been getting suspicious about how Julian and Damian felt about one another for a while now. But this just confirmed it all. 

She’d worked in a fine clothing shop for far too long not to recognize _ that _ expression. She’d seen the same glow in the eyes of the customers who went on and on about finding the perfect ensemble to fit their beloved. 

“He sounds wonderful,” said Meleia. 

“He is,” said Julian. Then he blinked, apparently coming back to reality. “Ah, well, at everything besides dancing, that is. You, on the other hand, seem to be doing quite well.” 

Surprised, Meleia looked down at her feet. Sure enough, they were gliding effortlessly across the room. And she hadn’t stepped on Julian’s boots once the entire time they had been talking. 

“How...?” Meleia gasped. 

“Seems you were overthinking things,” said Julian. “And you’re not the first. Sometimes one gets so focused on doing things the right way that they forget what’s really important.” 

“And what’s that?” Meleia asked. 

“Doing things your own way,” Julian replied, pulling her into a slightly more complicated move. Meleia followed easily. “Or... more following your instincts, I think. I’m... not really articulating it well, am I?

“Not really,” Meleia admitted. 

“Sorry,” said Julian, flushing. “All I’m trying to say is... well, try not to think about it all too hard. It’s when we start to hesitate that things go south. Trust me. I’m incredibly good at overthinking.” 

“Really?” Meleia giggled. “Somehow, after seeing the eyepatch, I kind of doubt that.” 

“Oh, the eyepatch was _ very _ well thought out,” Julian chuckled. “Now, then... on the subject of _ no hesitation, _ let’s try something new.” 

Before Meleia could even think about bracing herself, Julian had all but tossed her forward. He was clearly trying to twirl her under his arm. Fairly simple, and something that might come up in a lot of dances. 

Meleia knew how it worked... in theory. She’d daydreamed about something like this so many times, though of course in a rather more romantic setting. But every time she’d idly twirled in the back room of the dress shop, the only thing she’d needed to worry about was the familiar clutter. 

This time, she had to deal with a dress that was still far too long for her on top of clutter that was completely _ un _familiar. Which, of course, meant that she almost immediately fell over. 

When she thought about it, it was a pretty spectacular fall. 

Somehow, Meleia managed to get her skirt tangled around her ankle. She couldn't catch her balance. She was sent stumbling backwards directly into a pile of books that had been stacked on the floor. Books went flying everywhere as she toppled, landing on her back with a loud _ oof. _ The makeshift circlet slipped out of her hair and plopped pathetically to the ground next to her. 

“Meleia!” Julian cried. “Are you alright? I’m so, _ so _ sorry, I didn’t mean--”

“M’okay,” Meleia mumbled, trying to get her hair out of her face. 

“Here, let me take a look at you.” 

Julian rushed to her side. He slid his hand under her head and gently lifted her up. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked. “Any dizziness? Nausea?” 

“No,” said Meleia. “I’m alright. Really.” 

“No bruises...” Julian murmured, as though he hadn’t even heard her. “That’s a good sign. Think you can sit up?” 

She pushed herself up. It was a little awkward with Julian still kind of holding onto her, supporting her back. 

“Good, good,” said Julian. “Looks like you didn’t hit your head, which is very lucky. Now, let’s see that ankle.” 

The moment Meleia was sitting fully upright, Julian moved to untangle her ankle from her skirt. He lifted her leg a bit, moving very precisely and gently, and inspected her ankle. 

“Well, nothing seems broken,” he announced. “No bruises here, either... can you move it?” 

Meleia wiggled her foot. 

Julian chuckled. “Right as rain, then. Anything hurt?” 

Meleia considered it for a moment. She was a little sore, but that was what happened when you fell over. 

“No, I’m fine,” she said. 

Julian let out a long sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear.” He forced a rather bitter smile. “Could have been a real mess, there, couldn’t it? You haven’t even been here a day, and I’m already nearly breaking your ankle.” 

“It was my fault,” said Meleia. 

“I’m the one who threw you into a pile of novels,” Julian countered. 

Meleia shook her head. “But _ I _ tripped. I should be apologizing for being so clumsy.” 

“Clumsy is hardly a problem,” said Julian. He made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a self-deprecating chuckle. “Just look at me. I’ve already made a disaster out of this, haven’t I? After I came running to you for this scheme, I ended up nearly getting you into serious trouble before we even got to the tricky part.” 

“I’m fine,” Meleia said again. “_ Really _.”

Julian surveyed her for a moment, as though making sure she really _ was _ fine. At last, apparently satisfied, he sagged in relief. 

“Good,” he sighed. “That’s good. That’s _ great, _ really. I should have known better. My first attempt to teach Damian that spin went about as well. Worse, in fact. Had to patch him up. The Queen was furious with me. Damian thought it was all hilarious, but...” 

His gaze had gone distant again. He was staring at her ankle still, but he clearly wasn’t really seeing it. 

She didn’t blame him. He’d hardly stopped talking about Damian since she’d come to the palace. Julian was so worried about him. Understandably so. Meleia’s heart ached in sympathy. She only wished she knew what to say, what she could possibly do to help him. 

Julian cleared his throat. “Well. Not the best time to reminisce, I suppose. Let’s get you up, shall we?” 

He got to his feet and took Meleia’s hand, pulling her up with expert ease. The movement was so unexpectedly smooth that Meleia stumbled again. Julian instantly caught her. 

“Whoops,” he chuckled. “Maybe we should keep on sitting for a moment.” 

Meleia couldn’t help but stare at him in surprise as he led her over to the plush chair tucked away in the corner. It really seemed like he’d done this a thousand times before. Maybe Julian had been there to help whenever Damian got tripped up. And according to Julian’s stories, that must have happened a lot. 

Yet Julian was always there for him. Meleia couldn’t help but wonder what that must have been like. To have someone you could really count on. Someone you could be yourself around, who didn’t care if you were clumsy or awkward or imperfect. Someone who might take care of her the way she would try to be there for them. 

Julian seemed to be an expert at that. 

Julian glanced down at her. “What is it? Something wrong?” 

“No, nothing,” said Meleia quickly. 

“That kind of _ nothing _ is usually something,” said Julian with a teasing smile. 

“I mean, I’m not hurt, I promise,” said Meleia awkwardly. “I was just... thinking.” 

“Thinking...?” Julian prompted. 

“You’re really good at this stuff,” said Meleia. “You know. Taking care of people.” 

Julian beamed. “Why, thank you. I trained to be a doctor for a while, you know.” 

“Really?” Meleia gasped. 

Juilan nodded. “One of the Queen’s siblings taught me, actually,” he said proudly. “Dr. Satrinava. They’re the best of the best. I’m not half as good as they are, but I manage.” 

“So you’re a doctor on top of being a tutor and an actor and... whatever else you are?” Meleia asked. 

“Ah, no.” Julian’s ears turned red. “Not quite. Didn’t ever manage to get my official license, you see. Never had the chance to attend any of those fancy schools. Not that it matters, really. Especially when you have real-life experience. Always the best teacher.” 

“Is that why didn’t get to be palace physician?” Meleia asked. 

“No,” said Julian slowly. “I never applied for the position, actually.” 

Meleia blinked. “Why not?” 

Julian’s expression turned nothing short of melancholy. 

“Some things just aren’t meant to be,” he said softly. 

Meleia glanced down at her lap. She thought she knew what he meant. And it had very little to do with becoming palace physician. 

“Julian?” Meleia said softly. 

“Hmm?” Julian looked absently up at her. 

“We’ll find him,” she said firmly. “I promise.” 

Julian blinked. “Y-yeah. I mean, yes. Yes, we will.”

He managed the faintest trace of a smile. It was nothing like his usual wide grin. But Meleia had the feeling it was the truest smile she’d seen yet. 

“On that note...” Julian glanced up at the clock that leaned against the far wall. 

Meleia followed his gaze. For a split second she was once again thrown by how enormous Damian’s room was. The clock itself was huge, and she could barely read it. When she finally figured it out, she realized with a jolt how late it had gotten. 

“Pasha will be here any minute to help you prepare for your audience with the Queen,” said Julian. “You should rest while you can.” 

Meleia shook her head. “No. I want to try that spin again.” 

Julian’s eyebrows shot up in shock. “You do?” 

“You said it yourself,” said Meleia. “If we end up dancing, then the Majestro’s going to lead. And I have to be ready for anything. Right?” 

For a moment, Julian kept staring. He looked nothing short of stunned. Then he broke into a soft smile. 

“Right,” he said. “Thank you, Meleia.” 

It was Meleia’s turn to be utterly surprised. “For what?” 

“For _ this, _” said Julian. “For following along with my ridiculously foolish plan.” 

“Damian’s in trouble,” said Meleia simply. “I had to help. I don’t know if I can pull it of, but... I can’t just sit back and let things stay... well, like this. If I can do _ anything _, then I have to try.” 

She stopped there, awkwardly clapping her mouth closed. She really hadn’t meant to say much of that. She probably ended up sounding like an idiot. 

But, surprisingly, Julian smiled. 

“That’s exactly what I’m thanking you for,” he said, smile widening.

Meleia almost wanted to apologize again. EVen _ she _ wasn’t sure why. But she managed to smile back at Julian. 

“Hey,” she said gently. “A princess never turns her back on the people who need her. How could I do anything different?” 

Julian raised an eyebrow again. “I don’t think that particular detail is anywhere in the Royal Etiquette Book.” 

Meleia shrugged. “Probably not. But I think it should be true, anyway. Don’t you?” 

“I do,” Julian agreed. “Well, on that note, we should get back to work. If you lift your skirt up a bit, it won’t try to eat you again. Probably.” 

Meleia snorted. “Oh, yes, that’s _ very _ reassuring.” 

Julian chuckled. He offered his hand. Meleia took it, allowing him to pull her up. 

She still had no real idea if she could do any of this. She still doubted she would be of any help at all. 

But she had to try. For Damian. And Julian. And all of Vesuvia. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooo boy this one's a long one. SO MUCH STUFF TO PUT IN. Also I very rarely write things in order so like the second half of this was one of the first things I ever wrote for this fanfic, which made things even more awkward. But anyway. I love Julian he's a good boy.


	19. A Royal Audience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Julian has a lot of emotions, and the plan is put into action.

“You’re going to be fine,” Portia promised as she gave Meleia’s hair one last twist. “My brother doesn’t always come up with the _best _schemes...” 

“Hey now, my schemes are incredible,” Julian cut in. “Besides, they’re more _wild plans_ than _schemes_.” 

Portia rolled her eyes. “Right. Of course. Now, would you mind giving us girls a moment, please? I’m trying to do her hair.” 

“It can’t be any more difficult than doing Her Majesty’s hair every morning, can it?” said Julian. “You two always chat when you’re doing that.” 

“We’re not _chatting,_” Portia huffed. “I’m filling Milady in on her duties and assisting her accordingly, that’s all.” 

Julian chuckled. “Of course. And the fact that I can hear you two laughing from all the way down the hall clearly means nothing.” 

“_Out,_” Portia snapped. 

To emphasize her point, she picked up a random hair ribbon from the vanity, crumpled it into a ball, and hurled it at Julian. Julian laughed as the ribbon bounced off and fluttered to the floor. He raised his hands in mock surrender. 

“Alright, alright!” he chuckled. “I’ll be outside when you’re ready. Try not to pull all of her hair out.” 

Portia, being the very mature person that she was, stuck her tongue out at him. 

Julian just laughed as he slid outside, shutting the door behind him. They’d moved from Damian’s chambers to one of the relatively small guest rooms. Portia was there under the pretense of getting it ready for their upcoming visit from the Princess of Nevivon. A visit that was going to come very soon. As soon as the Princess was ready. 

It would be Julian’s job to present her to the Queen. Portia had flat-out refused to do so. Not that Julian particularly minded. He took pride in his talent in working a crowd. 

But he couldn’t deny he was nervous. It was obvious enough to anyone who might have spared him a glance. He simply couldn’t keep still. And he kept wringing his hands. 

Despite all the reassurances that this would work, he couldn’t be sure that this plan would go off without a hitch. 

He was in the middle of pacing agitatedly when he heard Portia say his name. Julian automatically froze. He crept an inch closer to the door, listening in. 

“...his heart in the right place, really,” Portia was saying. “He’s still an idiot, though. Really smart, but an idiot.” 

“I just hope I can make this work,” Meleia sighed. “If I mess this all up, then...”

“Then we’ll find a way out of whatever mess you end up making,” said Portia lightly. “Can’t be any worse than cleaning up after _his_ messes.” 

“He’s really not that bad,” said Meleia. 

Julian smiled. He hadn’t expected Meleia to leap to his defense, but he appreciated the sentiment. 

“Oh, no, he’s pretty amazing,” Portia agreed. “But don’t tell him I said that, or it’ll make his head bigger than it already is.” 

“He _can_ show off a little bit,” Meleia admitted. 

“He can show off a _lot_,” said Portia. “But if you ever _do_ get in trouble, he’s not going to just let you _stay_ in trouble, you know? He’ll set things right. Even if he winds up in the dungeons for it.” 

She sounded a little bitter. Julian’s stomach lurched. He knew how much Portia worried about him. But it was his job to protect her, just like it was his job to keep Damian safe and happy. 

He’d already failed Damian. He wouldn’t fail Portia. Or Meleia. 

And he would do whatever it took to get Damian back home. 

“He’s really nice, though,” said Meleia, jumping to Julian’s defence once more. 

Julian was glad neither of them could see him. He was certain his ears were bright red by now. And probably quite a bit of the rest of his face, as well. 

Damian was the only person who’d ever really stuck up for him like that before. True, his sister loved him, and he knew it, and she _did_ try to help him out the way he always tried to do for her, but... to hear it from someone outside of his family? That was far from a common occurrence. More often than not, as his sister had mentioned, he ended up in some kind of trouble. He messed stuff up. He caused a scene. He generally ruined a lot of things. He’d try to patch things up, of course, but in the end, he’d never found a place willing to let him hang around. 

That is, until he’d started working for Damian. Or perhaps _with_ Damian. He’d messed up in front of the prince _plenty_ of times, and he hadn’t been kicked out yet. 

Again, unusual. 

The more that he thought about it, the more Meleia and Damian seemed to have in common. They were both clever, quick learners. And Julian had caught a glimpse of the same stubborn streak that Damian had, though not nearly to his extreme. And they both made sure they saw things through for the better of the people they cared about. 

Julian would do all he could to say the same. 

While his mind whirled through all these thoughts, Portia kept on chatting with Meleia. 

“Oh, he _is_ nice,” Portia agreed. “He’s a lot of other things, too, but... he’s always thinking about other people. Taking their burdens on his shoulders. Even if he complains about the weight.”

Meleia giggled. “I know how _that_ feels.” 

“But he’s really not so bad,” said Portia. “If anybody can make sure we all come out of this safe, it’s him.” 

Julian sighed. A weak sort of smile played across his lips. 

“High praise, Pasha,” he murmured. “I just hope I can live up to it.” 

Not long after that, the door finally opened and Portia led Meleia outside. Julian got one look at Meleia and whistled. 

Somehow, just by putting Meleia’s hair half up and twining it elegantly around the circlet, pinning the skirts a bit with decorative silver clips that looked like butterflies, and adding a lovely pair of long white gloves, Portia had turned Meleia into the picture of elegance. Meleia still looked shy and a little nervous, but no one would possibly mistake her for a shopkeep now. 

“Absolutely lovely,” said Julian. “You’ve outdone yourself this time, Pasha.” 

Meleia turned completely pink again. Julian was starting to wonder how much she could afford to blush like that without completely overheating herself and passing out. That could _not_ have been good for her. 

Portia waved his compliment away. “Just doing what I do best! Besides, after working with Milady’s hair every day, Meleia’s curls are nothing.” 

“Do I really look like a princess?” Meleia asked shyly. 

Julian chuckled. “You do. I promise.” 

“Oh!” Portia cried. “You didn’t even get a chance to see the whole effect, did you? Sorry, I normally do that, I was just completely preoccupied. It’s way past lunch by now, so Milady is probably wondering where we all are, but... well, here you go!” 

As she talked, she bustled Meleia over to a full-length mirror set apart from the vanity. Meleia looked at her reflection. And she absolutely froze. Her chin dropped in surprise. She lifted a hand and reached out as though to touch the mirror, but she stopped about halfway there. She looked like she hadn’t expected her reflection to... well, _reflect_ her movements. 

“Is that... is that really me?” she gasped. 

Portia beamed. “Yep. It’s really you.” 

Meleia still just stared, completely shocked. 

“You’ll look even better tomorrow after you’ve had time for a bath,” said Portia. “The hair’s not the best I’ve done, I admit, but at least your circlet won’t fall off now.” 

“It’s incredible,” said Meleia. She let out a stunned little laugh. “Thank you. Thank you so much!” 

“You can thank us after this is all over,” said Julian. “We shouldn’t keep Her Majesty waiting any longer.” 

That sobered Meleia up very quickly. She squared her shoulders and stood straight, just like they had practiced. 

“Are you ready?” Portia asked. 

Meleia didn’t speak. She simply nodded. 

“I’ll go on ahead,” said Portia. “Make sure everything’s ready on their end.” She glanced at Julian. “They’re in the parlor now. I think they’re still trying to figure out what to do about the whole joining-our-kingdoms thing without... you know.” 

Julian nodded. He knew _full_ well. 

Meleia went completely pale. Julian was once again very concerned for her health. But he had the feeling that her current state had very little to do with any illnesses and everything to do with sheer nervousness. 

“It’s alright,” Julian assured her. “We already practiced the basics of Nevivon, right? And you still have that map I gave you?”

Meleia nodded. “It’s in my bag.” 

“Good,” said Julian. “You can always look back at that. But right now, you don’t even need to think about it. No one is going to expect you to dive into political discussions just after you arrive.” 

“Really?” Meleia asked doubtfully. 

“Even the Ambassador of Zadith got dinner first,” said Portia with a wink. 

“Exactly,” Julian agreed. He gestured triumphantly toward his sister. “See? We have nothing to worry about.” 

They all knew that they had _several_ things to worry about. But none of them said anything otherwise. 

“Well, it looks like you two have it handled,” said Portia, her smile never faltering. “I’ll make sure Milady’s alright. And the Ambassador, of course. Oh, and fair warning, I think Count Lucio might have returned recently.” 

Julian stared at her, eyes wide. “Count Lucio’s back? You mean he actually left?” 

“Yeah, on his supposed search for the prince,” said Portia. “Why? You thought he stayed here?” 

“You didn’t tell me anything about seeing Lucio,” Meleia cut in. She sounded more shocked than accusatory. 

“You... don’t think he’ll recognize you, do you?” Julian asked. “From the shop?” 

He gave himself a mental kick for not thinking about that little detail sooner. If Lucio recognized Meleia, then this entire plan would have been for nothing. 

Meleia laughed dryly. “Not a chance. Lord Valerius served him personally most of the time. And when I _did_ step in, Lucio never looked at anything but the mirror.” 

Portia snorted. “Sounds like Lucio.” 

“Good,” Julian sighed, relieved. “Then we’re fine. Everything’s fine.” 

He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince of that. But he couldn’t help saying it anyway.

Meleia managed another nod. She still didn’t look like she fully believed him. But she wasn’t backing down any time soon. Despite her concern, she was obviously determined to see this through. 

Portia laughed. “See? You have it handled. Just give it a minute or two before you head over. Good luck, you two!” 

“Ah, Pasha, we’re putting on a show!” said Julian dramatically. “You _should_ say ‘break a leg!’” 

The fact that Portia didn’t reply with something along the lines of a threat to break _Julian’s_ leg just showed how serious the situation was. Julian’s smile slipped a bit. But he tried not to let it show. He was fully aware that he and Meleia would need that good luck far more than Portia did. 

They waited for what felt like the longest two minutes in Julian’s entire life. Even Meleia was fidgeting. And Forge adorably batting at the butterfly pins in her skirt did nothing to cheer either of them up. 

Well, it did a _little_ to cheer them up. Julian couldn’t help but smile at the fox’s antics. 

At last, Julian escorted Meleia to the parlor. Meleia was already in character from the moment they stepped into the main hall. She walked with her head held high, her shoulders set. And she looked entirely comfortable like that. 

Julian thought he might have to get some acting tips from _her_ someday. After this whole mess was over, of course. 

By either coincidence or Portia’s design, the door to the parlor had been left slightly ajar. It was cracked open just enough for Julian and Meleia to overhear the conversation going on.

“And you’re sure you don’t want me to contact the Majestro?” the Ambassador was asking. 

“I am _absolutely_ sure,” said the Queen firmly. 

“Really, the Majestro would understand...” 

The Ambassador’s protests were cut off by Lucio. 

“Ambassador, you don’t seem to realize the dire straits our fair Vesuvia happens to be in,” Lucio drawled. 

“I understand that perfectly well,” the Ambassador shot back, a bit of bite in his voice that reminded Julian of ice. 

“Forgive the Count’s rude behavior,” said Nadia. “We are all under more than a fair amount of pressure.” 

“Of course,” said the Ambassador. “That’s why I really think we should postpone the...” 

“Just a moment!” Julian blurted out. 

He’d just pushed the door fully open, which, of course, meant everyone could see him. And he could see them all stare at him. He wasn’t afraid of the spotlight, of course, but having the Queen, the Count, the Ambassador, and the Ambassador’s hulking guard all staring at him with a thousand different emotions threw him for a moment. 

But the moment passed quickly. Julian cleared his throat, straightened up a bit, and dipped a very professional bow. 

“Pardon the interruption,” he said gallantly. “I thought that the Ambassador might like to meet our newest guest.” 

“Oh?” Nadia gave him a distinctly skeptical look. 

Julian didn’t dare meet her eye. Instead, he spared a quick glance at Portia before making a sweeping gesture towards the door. 

“Allow me to present... Princess Meleia of Nevivon,” he announced. 

They hadn’t practiced this entrance. Julian hadn’t thought they would actually _need_ to practice this entrance. He gave himself another mental kick for that one. But Meleia entered right on cue, Forge trotting dutifully behind her as though it were the most natural thing in the world. 

The Queen’s eyes widened. The Ambassador got to his feet, looking slightly stunned. Lucio glowered, apparently still angry about the interruption. His dogs growled at Forge, but neither of them made a move. 

And Meleia glided across the room. Her gaze swept the parlor, betraying only a hint of her usual shyness. 

Then her eyes locked with the Ambassador’s. And both of their expressions shifted. Meleia’s softened into a shy little smile. And the Ambassador’s eyes widened at almost exactly the same moment. When he managed a smile in return, he was practically glowing. 

Julian couldn’t hide a smirk. Oho, he knew those looks. This would be interesting. 

Meleia almost made it to the center of the room before she tripped. She’d gotten tangled in her long skirts again. She stumbled with a little gasp. Julian lurched forward to help. And so, to his surprise, did the Ambassador. 

But Meleia straightened herself up before either of them could reach her. She gave them both a grateful nod before finishing her little journey and standing before the Queen. She dropped a perfect curtsey. 

“Your Majesty,” she said politely. “It is an honor to meet you.” 

“The honor is mine,” said Nadia slowly. “Forgive the rather lackluster welcome. I had not realized you would be arriving so soon.” 

She shot Portia an odd sort of look. Portia busied herself with a tea tray. 

“Understandable, Your Majesty,” Julian cut in quickly. “I take full responsibility for all of the confusion. It seems I got a few scheduling details mixed up.” 

Nadia’s attention turned to him. Julian had the distinct feeling he was being very carefully scrutinized. 

“Indeed?” said Nadia. “I suppose we’ll discuss those details another time. But for the moment...” 

“Please accept my apologies,” said Meleia. “Master Julian has told me that I have come at a particularly busy time. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

She hadn’t straightened up, nor was she even looking at the Queen. The whole effect made her look particularly humble and polite, which was a good thing. But Julian though she might have just been too nervous to speak with the Queen face to face. 

“Your Majesty, if I may,” Julian cut in, drawing everyone’s attention to himself again. 

Nadia nodded. “Go on.” 

“Considering the current... circumstances,” he said carefully, “it may be to our benefit to have another party assisting in these political discussions. Trade and so forth. Princess Meleia has quite a bit of experience in trade management.”

Meleia shot him a rather panicked look. Julian tried to send her a reassuring glance. 

“The details on trade _are_ one of the things we had arranged to discuss,” Nadia mused. 

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” the Ambassador jumped in. “I will personally let the Majestro know when he arrives. A fresh pair of eyes may make all the difference.” 

Meleia instantly flushed at that again, though Julian couldn’t help but notice her smile. He shouldn’t have been surprised to see the Ambassador grinning as well, with the look he had given Meleia earlier. The Ambassador’s guard, on the other hand, looked completely stone-faced. And Lucio looked downright betrayed. 

“Noddy, darling, you aren’t seriously considering this, are you?” he demanded. “We don’t even know who this _princess_ is! Can we _really_ trust someone who’s simply waltzed into our palace and--?”

“Excuse me, milord.” 

Meleia’s tone was so surprisingly formal that everyone stopped short. Even Lucio. They all stared at Meleia. She had straightened herself up, and was now pinning Lucio with a steely gaze. 

It was all Julian could do to hold back a grin. She looked _exactly _like royalty. 

“I have worked long and hard to reach the Vesuvian palace,” said Meleia firmly, “and I am sure that Master Julian and all the others have done just as much work to arrange this meeting. I will happily step aside and wait for a more appropriate moment to discuss ties with Nevivon if need be. But I was unaware that it was customary to treat royal guests with such suspicion.” 

Julian was grinning in earnest now. He had never felt more proud. 

Lucio scowled. “Perhaps not. But it’s hardly customary for a foreign princess to arrive unannounced, is it?” 

“She _was_ announced, my lord,” said Julian pointedly. “Though I’m afraid you may have missed some of our discussions as we arranged for her visit.” 

“Indeed,” said Nadia again. 

Julian thought he saw Nadia give a hint of a smile, but he wasn’t sure. He could only hope that this was a good sign. 

The Ambassador laughed. “It’s alright, Count. I believe you should focus on your own tasks. Let _us_ handle the politics.” 

Meleia looked like she was about to laugh as well. The look on Lucio’s face was enough to make _anyone_ hold back a grin. 

The Ambassador pointedly ignored Lucio and turned his attention back to Nadia. 

“The Majestro is due to arrive tomorrow,” he told her. 

Meleia’s eyes widened. Julian could practically see the word_ tomorrow_ echoing around her mind in shock. 

“I’ll let him know about our slight change of plans,” the Ambassador continued. “I’m certain he will be happy to have a bit of extra help.” 

“In that case, I suppose I can’t refuse your requests,” said Nadia. “Very well. Princess Meleia, you are welcome to join our discussions. I would appreciate any assistance you can offer.” 

Meleia swept her second perfect curtsey of the day. “Of course, Your Majesty. Thank you very much.” 

Nadia’s eyebrow quirked a bit higher, but she didn’t say anything more. 

Lucio scoffed. “If you’ll all excuse me, there are a few preparations I must make before I continue my search.” 

He whirled around, flicking his cape behind him, and strode towards the door. 

Forge stepped directly in Lucio’s path. Forge’s ears were pressed back against his head. And he was snarling. He looked about as dangerous as a tiny, adorably fluffy fox possibly could. 

Lucio stumbled back with a cry of disgust. 

“What the--?” he spluttered. 

Both his hounds growled ferociously, rushing to his side with hackles raised. Forge backed up just a bit, though he kept glaring at Lucio. 

Lucio scowled. He kicked Forge away, causing him to skid over to the side. 

“Who let this mangy beast inside the palace?” Lucio spat. 

Forge picked himself up, looking shaken, but thankfully unhurt. Meleia instantly rushed over and scooped the fox up in her arms. 

“He belongs to me,” Meleia said with a glare. She clutched Forge protectively against her chest. 

“Really, Lucio!” Nadia chided. “Such behavior is beneath you.” 

Lucio’s scowl lasted a moment more. Then he hastily dipped into another bow. 

“I was merely looking out for your safety, Your Majesty,” he said gallantly. 

“While the gesture is appreciated, you have gone much too far,” said Nadia firmly. “Princess Meleia, I hope you accept our most sincere apologies.” 

She glared pointedly at Lucio. Lucio scowled again, but even he couldn’t quite stand up to Nadia’s royal stare of disapproval. 

“Beg pardon, Your Highness,” said Lucio, both his voice and the accompanying bow rather stiff. 

Meleia gave Forge a complete inspection before replying. 

“I think he’s alright,” she said. “So... no harm done, I suppose.” 

She set Forge gently back on the floor. He looked up at her gratefully before turning to the Count’s hounds. He snorted at them, as though to say _so there_. Both Mercedes and Melchior looked rather stunned. 

Julian would have laughed under any other circumstances. But at the moment, he was too focused on how close of a call that had been. Though couldn’t help but notice that the Ambassador was glaring at Lucio as well. He looked as though he, personally, had no intention of accepting that particular apology. 

“Well, glad that’s all settled,” said Lucio testily. “Now if you’ll all excuse me...” 

Julian stepped in, blocking Lucio’s path. “Is everything all right, my lord?” 

His eyes were narrow as well, staring Lucio down. Lucio met his gaze with a smirk. 

“Oh, it will be,” said Lucio. “Very soon.” 

With that, he swept out of the room. HIs dogs spared one last growl at Forge before padding after him. 

It was all Julian could do to hold back a sigh of relief. He was certainly glad that Meleia wouldn’t have to deal with Lucio for the moment. Though his parting comment had done little to clear him of suspicion. 

Nadia started talking again, then, probably trying to apologize to Meleia or something. Julian was hardly listening. He was too preoccupied by Forge. The fox had stepped up to the spot where Lucio had just been standing. And he was sniffing the ground in great interest. 

“Find something, little guy?” Julian murmured. 

He crouched down next to Forge. Forge looked up at him rather beseechingly. He batted his paw at something on the ground. 

Julian inspected the floor. There were traces of mud, left behind from Lucio’s boots. Had they been the same boots that Julian had found stashed in the stables? He hadn’t been paying that much attention. But Forge just kept batting at the floor, so, clearly, the mud wasn’t the issue. 

Then Julian found a tiny fragment of a flower petal, half buried in said mud. 

“Hello,” he muttered with interest. “What have we here?” 

He picked it up and took a closer look. He’d know that bright blue color anywhere, whether it was smashed on the floor... or elegantly placed in Damian’s hair. 

“Starstrand?” he murmured. “But those only grow in...” 

He trailed off, his gaze turning to the door. He could still see Lucio’s figure in the halls. He may have been making his way back to the stables. 

“What have you been doing in the Dark Forest, Lucio?” Julian wondered aloud. 

“Julian? Are you feeling alright?” 

The Queen’s voice made him jolt upright. “Perfectly, Your Majesty. Just spotted a bit of dirt on the carpet, that’s all.” 

“I see,” said Nadia skeptically. “I’ll be sure to send for someone to clean up. In the meantime, Julian, would you and Portia mind escorting Princess Meleia to her chambers? I’m sure she would appreciate the chance to freshen up before dinner.” 

Julian’s bow was the perfect excuse to hide his grin. “Right away, Your Majesty.” 

He was quick to gesture Meleia forward. Meleia gave a gracious nod-- and stole one more quick glance at the Ambassador-- before following. Forge trotted merrily at her heels. Portia dipped a curtsey to the queen and rushed after them. 

They managed to hold their air of decorum until they had turned the corner. Then, as though on some silent signal, all three of them burst out laughing. Meleia slumped against the wall, hardly able to breathe. Julian had to brace himself up on one arm. Even Portia was nearly collapsed in giggles. 

It was working. It was actually _working._

And now Julian had a lead. Maybe he could even sneak out right now... or as soon as he had pulled himself together. 

He’d known Meleia could pull this off, but he hadn’t expected things to go so wonderfully. She was a remarkable princess. He wasn’t remotely worried about having enough time or opportunity to find Damian anymore. 

Now all he had to deal with was Lucio. This would be almost too easy. 


	20. Dramatic Exit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Damian is almost as dramatic as Julian.

It was a frustratingly long time before Damian could make his move. So he planned. He prepared. And both he and Oswald rehearsed. 

Most of all, Damian listened. He gathered as much information as he possibly could, and did his best to set everything up. He would only get one shot at this. It had to be perfect. 

It was impossible to really track how much time he had spent inside that tiny room. The barred window did very little to let any light in. Damian would have fallen into sheer panic if he hadn’t had a task to focus on. And listening to his two erstwhile guards often gave him more than enough to think about. 

The most difficult part of timing his scheme was trying to find the moment where the two of them were both in the cottage at once. More often than not, the pair would trade off, one leaving the other behind to go off and do who-knew-what. At first, Damian thought he might be able to fight past the nasal-voiced one, whom he had learned was named Vlastomil. But he couldn’t exactly get past anyone if he couldn’t get out the door. And Vlastomil was never the one who cracked the door open enough to toss in a few scraps of food. No, that was always the armored Vulgora. 

Damian did _not_ want to try his luck against _them._

Even if Damian thought he _could_ get past Vlastomil when he was on his own, Damian had no idea where Vulgora went when they weren’t guarding him. For all he knew, they could have been lurking just outside. 

No. He would have to be absolutely certain he could get past both of them at once. 

Which meant an awful lot of waiting. 

At one point, he overheard some relatively good news. Vulgora said something about their boss wanting both of them on guard duty at night, just in case Damian were to attempt an escape. 

Which, of course, was exactly what Damian was going to do. He just couldn’t let any of _them_ know that. 

It didn’t help that their mysterious boss kept stopping by. At first, Damian had felt almost hopeful when he heard the clatter of hooves. And even though he learned very quickly that the chance any horses that came here might belong to someone coming to his rescue was ridiculously slim, he couldn’t stop himself from rushing to the window or pressing his ear against the door. But there was never any chance to peek at this boss. Nor could he ever make out the boss’s voice. Whenever the boss spoke to Vlastomil or Vulgora, the conversations instantly turned hushed. 

But Damian got enough information to figure out a few things. 

He must have been correct on his assumption that he was being held for ransom. Vulgora and Vlastomil wouldn’t shut up about their rewards, especially when the boss came around. It was the one thing that Damian always managed to hear. 

Vlastomil was being promised an entire estate, apparently. And Vulgora would get a change to really throw themselves into battles, whatever that meant. Whoever this boss was, he must have been asking for a ridiculously high ransom. A ransom that the palace certainly couldn’t afford to pay. 

Either that, or the boss was just lying to Damian’s captors to get whatever other goal they were trying to achieve. 

Damian couldn’t allow _either_ option to happen. 

So he bided his time. He shouted through the door a few more times, just for dramatic effect. And then, apparently “defeated” by the cruel words of his captors (and some rather violent threats from Vulgora), he played the good little prisoner. Every time either of his captors checked up on him in any way, he maintained a stony silence. 

They both seemed to relish in that. They’d thought they’d managed to break him. They’d thought they had won. 

Good. That was what Damian wanted them to think. 

The most difficult part was hiding Oswald. Especially from Vulgora. Vulgora would always toss the door open unexpectedly. Damian had needed to hastily stuff Oswald in one of his pockets at one point, which made Oswald squeak in protest. Damian had thought that the squeak would be difficult to cover up. But Vulgora just laughed. 

“Finally giving in to our fear, are we?” they sneered. “That’s what I like to hear.” 

Damian, staying in character, had said nothing. He’d simply tried his best to look intimidated. Defeated. It wasn’t that hard. Vulgora was incredibly threatening. 

Vulgora let out another roar of laughter and unceremoniously tossed an old dish at Damian’s feet. Then they left, slamming and locking the door behind them. As usual. 

Damian completely ignored the poor excuse for food. And he instantly freed Oswald from his pocket. 

“Sorry, buddy,” he whispered. “Are you alright?” 

Oswald flexed his wings a bit. He was ruffled, but he didn’t look too much worse for wear. 

“Good,” Damian sighed. “That was a tight squeeze, wasn’t it? Didn’t mean to put you in the same pocket as the snow-silver and...” 

He trailed off. He’d absently put his hand in that same pocket again... and there was more than just the bottle of snow-silver. 

Damian emptied his pocket. And he found the brooch that the Ambassador had given him. 

He almost laughed. Some good luck charm that thing had turned out to be. 

He shoved the brooch and the vial of snow-silver back into his pocket. He’d hate to lose either of those. He supposed he should have been grateful that he hadn’t been searched when he’d been captured. But at the moment, seeing the brooch had just strengthened his resolve. 

Saving the kingdom was entirely up to him. But he couldn’t do that if he were locked inside an old cabin in the middle of nowhere. 

“You think you can still fly, Oswald?” Damian asked. “Even though I kind of squashed you?” 

Oswald nodded. 

“Right.” 

Damian gathered up his pathetic excuse for a bedsheet and tossed it up into the rafters. Oswald flew after it. 

“Shouldn’t be long, now,” Damian said. He wasn’t sure if he were reassuring himself or Oswald. “I bet Vlastomil’s going to show up soon. Then we just have to wait for the perfect moment to strike.” 

If Oswald responded, Damian couldn’t hear. Which was probably a good thing. They couldn’t let Vlastomil or Vulgora find out anything was amiss. 

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Vlastomil arrived. Naturally, the first thing he did was get into another argument with Vulgora. 

Oswald squeaked. It almost sounded like he wanted to know if it was showtime yet. Damian silently signaled for Oswald to keep waiting. 

It was a testament to how brilliant Oswald was that he followed Damian’s directions perfectly. 

Damian waited until Vlastomil and Vulgora had settled down. And he kept waiting while Vlastomil found a deck of cards. And then he waited even longer, listening intently to their game. Maybe, if they were playing cards, Vulgora would finally take off those dangerously sharp gauntlets. It was worth a shot. Now all he had to do was strike while the two villains were completely distracted. Or, better yet, yelling at each other again... 

It didn’t take long for the card game to go awry. 

“Oh, you are _lying_, Vulgora,” Vlastomil tittered. 

“You _dare_ accuse _me_ of LYING?” Vulgora roared. 

To Damian’s surprise, Vlastomil didn’t back down. The tension must have been very high. 

“You _do_ have a seven!” Vlastomil declared. “Two of them, in fact!” 

Vulgora growled. “And how could you possibly know that?” 

“Why, I saw them for myself!” 

“_CHEATER!_” 

“Y-you left your hand on the table!” 

“_I WOULD NEVER--_” 

“Oh, stop, stop _screaming!_” Vlastomil whined. “You _were_ the one who got up, you know, grumbling about how you were only losing because of your silly glove...” 

_“I’LL SHOW YOU HOW SILLY MY GAUNTLET IS!_” 

Damian instantly got into position. He slid along the wall, keeping far enough away from the door to allow Vulgora and Vlastomil to rush in, but close enough to rush _out_. As he moved, he searched for Oswald in the raftors. He was easy to spot. And he was already in costume. 

“_Now,_” Damian whispered. 

Oswald let out an unholy screech. And Damian started screaming. 

Vulgora barked out a swear. Vlastomil yelped in fear. 

“Wh-what on _earth?_” Vlastomil gasped. 

“_HELP!_” Damian shouted. “_Please, someone help!_” 

Oswald screeched again, the sound echoing eerily through the rafters. He nearly drowned out Damain’s yells, which was very impressive for such a tiny bat. 

“And now the prince is yelling again!” Vlastomil whined. “Oh, what _is_ he _doing?_ How is he making that horrible shriek?”

“You _idiot!_” Vulgora barked. “No human can make a sound like that!” 

“Then what could--” 

“Hurry!” Damian shouted, trying to sound desperate. “It’s after me!” 

That, in retrospect, was a horrible line. But it must have worked. Despite all the noise he and Oswald were making, Damian distinctly heard the two captors scramble towards the door. And the lock clicked open.

“You’re _really_ going in there?” Vlastomil whined. 

“Of course I am!” Vulgora snapped. 

“Wh-what if it’s a trap?” Vlastomil fretted. 

Damian screamed again. He thought it was very convincing. All he had to do was think about the idea of staying in here forever. Of failing his kingdom. 

“Either way, it sounds like a _fight_ to me!_” _Vulora roared. 

They sounded_ way_ too happy about that idea. Damian subconsciously skirted a few more inches away from the door. Just in case. 

And just in time. The next moment, there was a sound like an explosion. The door was thrown open so violently that it slammed against the wall and bounced back, nearly whacking Vulgora in the face. They simply batted the door aside again. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to be wearing their clawed gauntlets. Damian had timed it right. 

Now he had to make sure he didn’t screw it up. 

“Get it, _get it!_” Damian yelled. He pointed frantically at the offending “horror.”

Both his captors followed his gaze. And at just the right moment, the “creature” swooped in. 

Vlastomil let out a terrified yelp. Vulgora growled, fists clenched. A shapeless blur of white with two splotches of black for eyes zipped past them, shrieking all the while. 

“Ghost!” Vlastomil wailed. 

Damian turned his head away from the chaos, hoping that he looked like he was cringing in fear. He was actually trying to hide a laugh. 

Oswald’s costume had turned out wonderfully. The dim lighting must have helped. Though Damian had to give full credit to Oswald’s impeccable acting ability. It wasn’t easy to turn a soot-stained bed sheet into a terrifying phantom. 

“I can’t punch a ghost!” Vulgora snarled. “Vlastomil! Do something!” 

“What?” Vlastomil wailed. “But... but you’re closer! _You_ do something!” 

“You’re older!” Vulgora snapped back. “Seniors first!” 

“_You’re_ the one who wanted a fight!” Vlastomil protested. 

Vulgora roared again, a feral, wordless cry. Damian couldn’t tell if it were in fury or frustration. Either way, Oswald took that as incentive to swoop again. And Vulogra did exactly what he’d announced he couldn’t do. 

He tried to punch the ghost. 

Damian’s heart leapt to his throat. But Oswald was ready. Somehow, he managed to lurch upwards, avoiding Vulgora’s fist. He landed on one of the raftors, completely unscathed. Still, Damian was trembling in earnest now. He was sure his terror was even more convincing than before. 

“Vlastomil!” Vulgora barked. “Get in here!” 

They didn’t wait for Vlastomil to respond. Instead they grabbed him by the shoulder and simply yanked him into the room. Vlastomil yelped again. He tried to protest, but if Vulgora was strong enough to haul Damian around like a rag doll, then skinny little Vlastomil didn’t stand a chance. 

_Almost there..._ Damian thought. 

Then, at last, the two villainous cohorts were directly under the rafter where Oswald had perched. Oswald let out one more blood-curdling screech, just for effect. Or possibly for fun. Then he dove. 

Damian’s heart pounded violently again. This was the riskiest, trickiest part of the plan. If something went wrong...

Oswald twisted himself in midair. The sheet slipped off of him. And it flopped right down on Vulgora and Vlastomil’s heads. 

Vlastomil yelped again. “The ghost! It got me! It wants to steal my soul!” 

“Shut _up!_” Vulgora roared. “And stop _squirming_, you’re just tying us in knots!” 

“It’s not me!” Vlastomil cried. “It’s the--”

“If you say ‘ghost’ _one_ more time, I will TURN YOU INTO ONE!” Vulgora bellowed. 

Damian didn’t bother to pay attention to what happened after that. He was already out the door. Oswald dashed after him, landing clumsily on his shoulder. 

“Good job, Oswald!” said Damian. 

He tried to pat Oswald on the head, but that proved to be very difficult to do while running. He very nearly managed to knock Oswald right back into the air. Oswald didn’t seem to mind. He just huddled closer, nestling close to Damian’s neck. 

Vulgora was still shouting by the time Damian managed to get the hut’s front door open. He dashed outside, glancing frantically around in the dark. It had to be somewhere... 

There. Luckily enough, his captors hadn’t bothered to tether the steed that was still attached to a cart right outside, presumably the same one that Damian had been brought in. Damian jumped into the driver’s seat without a second thought. 

He’d never driven a carriage before. 

Now seemed a wonderful time to learn. 

“Go, _go_!” he begged. 

He grabbed the reins and flicked them almost by instinct. Oswald made an odd little peeping sound. But the horse didn’t go anywhere. 

Damian leaned closer to it, trying to figure out what was going on. He was getting desperate. Vulgora’s yelling had died down. They would come after him in an instant. 

“Come on, come _on,_ we have to--” 

Damian’s pleas cut short. He knew this horse. 

“_Appleberry?_” he gasped. 

The horse snorted. It turned its head towards Damian. Damian would recognize that signature I-would-like-some-food-now head tilt anywhere. Sure enough, his kidnappers had somehow gotten ahold of Appleberry, too. 

Whoever these goons were, they were _good._ And surprisingly thorough. 

“IF HE GETS AWAY, I AM BLAMING YOU!” 

Vulgora’s too-familiar roar ripped through the air. Damian spared a single frightened glance back before leaning close to Appleberry again. 

“Appleberry,” he called pleadingly, “if you get us home fast, I promise you an entire bushel of apples when we get back. Alright?” 

He wasn’t sure if Appleberry really understood what he wanted. But the horse clearly understood the word _apples._ Appleberry instantly perked up. And Damian didn’t even have to so much as twitch the reins before the horse was off. 

Damian heard shouting behind him. The kidnappers weren’t far behind. Damian just urged Appleberry to go faster, _faster._

Though before they were completely out of earshot, Damian could have sworn he heard one of them complaining that their boss would be very unhappy. 

Perfect. Damian may have managed a clean getaway. 

But that thought didn’t slow him down for an instant. He kept up the speed as they all but dove into the forest. Any reluctance Appleberry may have had was quickly was completely outshone by the desire for a delicious meal at their destination. Appleberry never once faltered, even as they traveled deeper and deeper into the wood. 

He didn’t even falter when Damian got them completely lost. 

Damian had no idea where they were. A forest, obviously, but he’d never even set foot in any place like this before. All he learned was that this must be the part of Vesuvia where starstrand flowers came from; he saw a few of them glowing amongst the foliage like beacons. The sight of them just made his heart ache. Once again he found himself wishing Julian was there. Julian might have known these woods. At the very least, Julian would have been completely certain which plants were edible. Damian was hungrier than he’d ever been in his life, but he didn’t quite dare risk eating anything. Especially when it was so dark that he could barely see an inch in front of his face. 

After a while, he had to ditch the cart. He hated to leave behind what might have been a crucial piece of evidence in finding out who was behind all this, but it couldn’t be helped. The foliage had gotten too thick to even ride through. He picked up an old blanket someone had left in the carriage and wrapped it around his shoulders. Then he was forced to walk Appleberry along... and more often than not tug him away from what was apparently a particularly tasty patch of grass. 

At last, the trees cleared enough for him to ride again. He was glad that Appleberry seemed content to trot along. Damian himself was so utterly exhausted that he nearly fell asleep as they rode. 

He had no idea how long they wandered through the wood. All he knew was how tired and hungry he was. Not to mention how many aches he had from the wonderful combination of being knocked out, kidnapped, and then riding for what seemed like hours on end with no saddle or any other significant way to hold on. The only small blessing, aside from the fact that at least he wasn’t technically kidnapped anymore, was the fact that they didn’t encounter any dangerous animals. 

Or the kidnappers’ boss. 

Finally, and with a lot of help from Oswald, Damian managed to wind his way out. And the first thing he found was a very familiar archway. An archway that was a part of a very familiar wall. 

Somehow, he’d wound up near official palace territory. 

He could have cried from sheer relief. 

Even Appleberry seemed pleased. He trotted a little faster now. Damian didn’t even have to steer him towards the palace. Damian could almost see the visions of apples that Appleberry must have been imagining. Maybe the horse even smelled his treat already. 

Damian himself was dreaming of a nice hot meal when Appleberry skidded to a stop. It took Damian a moment to figure out why. 

They’d reached one of the back gates. And, much to Damian’s surprise, there was a guard posted there. A guard that Damian didn’t recognize. 

“Who goes there?” the guard demanded. 

It took Damian a moment to register that sentence. He’d rather expected the guard to simply open the gate. But, of course, it would be hard to recognize Damian as the prince in the dark. Especially when he was riding alone in a by now probably incredibly messy working outfit. Not to mention cloaked in a frayed blanket. 

Damian straightened himself up as best as he could. 

“It is I, Prince Damian of Vesuvia,” he called in the most royal voice he could manage. 

The guard lifted a lantern, casting eerie shadows over Damian. They squinted at him. 

“You don’t _look_ like the prince,” the guard grumbled. 

Damian sighed. He didn’t have time for this. 

“You can ask anyone,” he said rather testily. “Call one of the other guards. Ludovico... he might be awake. He’ll vouch for me.” 

The guard’s eyes just grew even narrower than before. Their grip tightened around the deadly spear in their free hand. 

“How do you know the name of one of our guards?” 

“Because I’m the _prince_,” Damian cried, exasperated. 

The guard scoffed. “Right. And I’m the sixth princess of Prakra.” 

“Aunt Natiqua wouldn’t be happy to hear you say that,” Dsmian quipped dryly. It was almost amusing to imagine Nadia’s older sister, a renowned diplomat, witnessing this nonsense. 

It had been a long time since Damian had seen his aunt. He’d almost forgotten that Nadia had been in line for the throne of Prakra before she’d become Queen of Vesuvia. The thought made him feel odd. Had his mother needed to marry to save her own kingdom, as she was asking him to do? 

The guard didn’t have time for Damian’s self-doubt. 

“Enough,” they said with a scowl. “If you’re really the prince, where’s your proof?” 

Damian’s heart sank. “Proof? I, uh...” 

“I am under explicit orders to make sure any suspicious individuals are appropriately dealt with,” the guard snarled. 

“I am _not_ a ‘suspicious individual!’” Damian cried. “Who gave those so-called orders, anyway? We haven’t had any guards at this gate in years! Even Count Lucio never--”

“Enough!” the guard snapped. “Now turn around and go home before I _officially_ lose my patience!” 

Damian almost snorted. The _guard_ was losing their patience? 

“I should report you directly to--”

“I told you to _leave!_” the guard growled. “Now _move along!_” 

Their tone was so fierce that Appleberry staggered back. Damian was forced to back down. 

He absently patted Appleberry’s mane as they trotted dejectedly away. His mind whirled. 

This wasn’t right. He would have thought that security was just tight because of his kidnapping, but for someone to outright deny him? To not even give him a chance to explain himself? On top of that, this guard was a stranger. Damian was fairly familiar with the royal guards, but he was _certain_ he had never met this one. And he highly doubted the Queen would hire brand new guards on such short notice. Especially with all of the other things she had to deal with. He didn’t even know if the palace could _afford_ more guards right now. 

Then the pieces all fell together. And a horrible realization hit him over the head. 

Of course. The kidnappers using Oswald to get to him quickly and quietly. Using Appleberry to haul him away. The fact that they had been relatively close to the palace, yet Damian hadn’t even heard of any sign that someone might be looking for him. 

If she had been certain that Damian had been taken, Nadia wouldn’t have wasted time on guarding mostly-forgotten palace entrances. She would have had every single guard out looking for him. And probably led the charge herself. 

They must not have really known. There must have been some kind of cover up. Or setup. Either way, this was an inside job. 

Which meant that Damian wouldn’t be finding help inside the palace. Not any time soon. And certainly not when he had absolutely no idea what the state of things inside the palace might be. 

He had to go _outside_ the palace for help. And there was only one person he could think of that might be able to do anything. 

He could only hope he could manage to find his way to Meleia’s shop. 


	21. Royal Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author goes off-script.

It took a long while-- nearly a full minute-- before Meleia could make herself stop laughing. 

It wasn’t that there was anything particularly funny about the situation. Things were still incredibly dire. And she was really lucky that Forge hadn’t been hurt when Lucio kicked him. 

But, gods, she just felt so _relieved._

Lucio truly hadn’t recognized her. And she must have made an impression, since the Queen had let her stay. They might just be able to pull off Julian’s completely insane plan after all. 

If nothing else, none of them had been thrown into the dungeons yet. That alone was worth celebrating. 

Julian and Portia seemed to share her sentiment. Julian was doubled over with laughter of his own. And even though Portia was clearly trying not to make as much noise, none of her attempts to stifle her giggles did any good.

“That was _incredible,_” Julian sighed. He was still grinning like an idiot. “Meleia, you are perhaps the most wonderful princess I’ve ever seen.” 

“So you’ve seen a lot of them?” Meleia teased. 

“More than my fair share,” Julian fired right back. “And believe me, when you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.” 

“Oh, don’t listen to anything he says,” Portia said lightly. “Ever. But really, you did amazing! You even convinced _me!_” 

Meleia let out another laugh, this one far more nervous than before. “I couldn’t have been _that_ good.” 

“Oh, I’d say you were _very_ impressive,” said Julian with his signature grin. “The Ambassador certainly seemed to think so.” 

Meleia felt heat creep up into her cheeks. The Ambassador had seemed very happy to have her help. She could only hope she could live up to his apparent expectations. 

“He _is_ kinda cute, isn’t he?” said Portia gently. 

“Wha...?” Meleia blurted out. “I... I didn’t... I wasn’t thinking about...” 

Portia laughed. “It’s fine, it’s fine! Thinking about romance happens no matter where you are. Even if you have other things to worry about. _Especially_ when you have other things to worry about,” she added, looking a bit guilty. 

“I-I don’t know,” Meleia mumbled. “I mean, he seemed... nice.” 

He was also beautiful. She couldn’t help but notice _that_ particular detail. But she hardly thought it was appropriate at the time. 

Besides, he was a royal ambassador. And she was... well, she still wasn’t much of anything. There was no way anything would come out of this. 

“It sounds like our dear Princess might spend a little more time chatting with the Ambassador than the Majestro,” Julian chuckled. 

Meleia was left wondering how red one person could turn. 

“Ilya, stop it,” Portia chided. “You’re terrifying her.” 

“Sorry,” said Julian at once. “But, honestly, Meleia, you did wonderfully. That was the performance of a lifetime.” 

“Especially when you stood up to Lucio,” said Portia, snickering again. 

Meleia laughed again. This one was more in earnest. 

“Okay, I have to admit,” said Meleia, “that was _extremely _satisfying.” 

Forge flicked his tail in agreement. 

“You don’t know the half of it!” Portia said with a grin. “Ah, the look on his face... you have no _idea_ how many times I’ve wanted to say something like that to him! I mean, I know Milady trusts him and all, but...”

“If we’re right about all this, she won’t trust him for much longer,” Julian cut in with only a hint of bitterness. 

“But he’s not that nice, is he?” Portia finished, completely ignoring her brother. 

Julian chuckled again, apparently unfazed. “Not particularly, no.” 

Meleia managed another weak sort of giggle, trying to hide the fact that her heart had plummeted to somewhere around her toes. She wasn’t sure if she’d said or done everything right. Thinking about it now, she could have gotten in serious trouble for talking back to Lucio the way she had. Not to mention the fact that she still didn’t really know if she could handle this for a long time. And of course she was still worried about Damian. 

But she had to admit... this was kind of fun. 

She instantly felt guilty for even thinking that. Was she really doing the right thing, flaunting around the palace and enjoying all the perks of royalty while Damian was out there somewhere, definitely in danger and quite possibly badly hurt? 

Forge must have picked up on her change in mood. He put his paws on her chest so he could haul himself up lick her chin, giving her some comforting kisses in his own way. Meleia absently started petting his ears. 

“Really, though, I can’t thank you enough, Meleia,” said Julian. “You and little Forge, here.” 

Meleia looked up at him, surprised. “Forge? What did he do? No offence, Forge...” 

Forge just nuzzled her some more. Which probably meant there was no offence taken. 

“Forge found some crucial evidence left behind in Lucio’s muddy boots,” said Julian triumphantly. 

“Lucio had mud on his boots?” Meleia said, confused. She didn’t know him well, of course, but he didn’t seem like the type who would get his clothes dirty. 

Portia scoffed. “I know, right? I’m not surprised you didn’t notice, though. You were a little preoccupied.” 

Meleia nodded, but she still felt oddly guilty about not seeing such a big clue. Wasn’t her job to try to help them figure this whole mess out? 

“It seems our dear Count has paid a recent visit to the Dark Forest,” said Julian, eyes gleaming. “Now, we can’t be sure he’s keeping Damian somewhere in there, but it’s the biggest lead we have at the moment.” 

“And _you’re _going to run off to investigate and leave the rest of us to clean up the giant, chaotic mess you leave behind,” Portia guessed. 

Juilan coughed awkwardly. “Well.... more or less.” 

For a moment, Meleia thought Portia would argue. But all she did was pull a face and let out a long-suffering sigh. 

“There’s no way I can talk you out of this, so I guess we’ll just have to follow this incredibly dumb and dangerous idea of yours,” she said. “You still alright with that, Meleia?” 

“Of course,” said Meleia. She didn’t even need to think about her answer. 

Portia breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks. Honestly, I don’t know what we would have done without you. Having you around to talk to Milady is a _huge_ help.” 

“Absolutely,” Julian agreed. “I’d hate to see what might happen if Her Majesty were to--”

“If I were to do _what,_ exactly?” 

All three of them jumped. Meleia nearly dropped Forge in shock. 

Queen Nadia towered above her, arms crossed. Her gaze was absolutely steely. 

“Y-Your Majesty!” Julian stuttered. “I... I was just... uh...” 

Nadia raised a single hand for silence. Julian instantly shut up. 

“I hardly have the time for whatever story you may be cooking up at the moment,” said Nadia coolly. “Perhaps you would prefer to tell me the story of how you met our new guest? _Without_ so many plot holes, this time, please.” 

Julian’s chin dropped. “Uh... we...” 

Portia tried to jump in. “Milady, she’s--”

“The Princess of Nevivon?” said Nadia testily, cutting her off. “Really? Was Damian’s long-lost sister unavailable?” 

Meleia’s face burned in pure shame. 

Both Julian and Portia tried to defend themselves again. 

“Your Highness, we were--”

“Milady, I--” 

“_It’s my fault!_” 

Everyone instantly went dead silent. Meleia’s voice had cut through the argument so suddenly that she’d even surprised herself. And with the way the Queen was looking at her, she desperately wanted to crawl into the nearest hole and stay there for the rest of her life. But she couldn’t back down. Not now. Not when so many people were depending on her. 

She couldn’t let Julian or Portia suffer for her sake.

“It’s my fault,” she said again, much softer this time. 

“Explain,” said Nadia tersely. 

“I’m sorry,” Meleia blurted out. “I just... I never really meant to trick you. I know, that sounds _really_ stupid,” Meleia added as Nadia raised an incredibly skeptical eyebrow. “But I swear, I didn’t mean any harm. I was just trying to help Damian.” 

“Damian?” Nadia repeated. “What does he have to do with any of this?” 

Julian stepped forward, the movement almost protective. “Your Highness, please, this was _my_ idea. You can’t--”

“I met Damian at the market.” Meleia quickly cut Julian off before he could throw himself into the fire for her. “We... we talked for a while and... he’s the closest thing I have to a real friend.” 

The silence after that was different than before, somehow. Nadia’s expression shifted a bit, though Meleia still couldn’t read it. 

“Julian told me what happened,” said Meleia, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I thought...” 

Her breath hitched. Her words got caught in her throat. She sighed and tried again. 

“I wanted to help Julian find him,” she admitted. “I know I shouldn’t have come here. I know what I did-- what I’m _doing_\-- is wrong. But I... I couldn’t just leave him in danger.” 

Silence again. And it was absolutely deafening. 

For a long moment, the Queen simply surveyed her. Meleia couldn’t meet her eyes. So she just stared at her own dirty old shop shoes that peeked out from under her hastily hemmed skirts. Still, she could feel Nadia’s gaze on her. Meleia was left with the distinct feeling that Nadia was staring into her very soul. 

She grimaced, bracing herself for the dungeons. Or worse. She’d never learned the punishment for treason before. What a way to find out... 

Then the Queen’s stare turned on Julian. 

“Well, then. What do _you_ have to say for yourself?” Nadia demanded. “You did mention this was _your_ idea, after all. And if I were you, I would avoid the theatrics this time.” 

Julian’s mouth was hanging open. He quickly snapped it shut. 

“Well.” He cleared his throat. “She, uh... already said it, basically. You have the jist.” 

Portia bit her lip nervously. “Milady...” 

Nadia’s steel gaze instantly whirled on Portia. Portia blanched a bit, but she stood her ground. 

“I know, I know, there’s a lot we need to explain,” said Portia quickly. “And I _promise_ I’ll tell you the truth. But you can’t get Meleia in trouble. She didn’t really do anything wrong. I mean, she didn’t do anything _bad_. And I thought it was a totally crazy plan at first, but I really, _really_ think Meleia can help. So... so she doesn’t deserve to be arrested or anything.” 

Nadia raised an eyebrow. “My dear Portia, whoever mentioned anything about _arresting_ her?” 

Portia’s eyes went as wide as dinner plates. Julian’s chin dropped again. Meleia’s heart could have stopped. Even Forge let out a little squeak, though that might have been because Meleia had accidentally hugged him too hard. 

“As you said, our guest did not cause any real harm,” Nadia went on. “Not to mention her complete lack of anything resembling a criminal record, considering I have never so much as heard of her before. At this point, all I can do is simply have her escorted from the palace.” 

Meleia dared to look up. She couldn’t be hearing this right. 

“However...” Nadia’s eyes flicked over her before returning to Julian. “I believe we are still waiting for _your_ version of these events.” 

Julian instantly folded under her scrutiny. 

“Of... of course,” he stuttered. “I’ll, uh, try to keep it brief.”

“Please do,” said Nadia testily. 

Julian took a deep breath. He ran his hand through his hair. 

“I suppose it all started with the note,” said Julian. 

“The note supposedly left by Damian,” said Nadia.

Meleia looked up, surprised. She hadn’t heard anything about a note before. 

Julian nodded. “I’m sure you already figured out that he didn’t run away.” 

Meleia was wondering when in the world anyone had thought that the prince had run away, and if this had anything to do with him visiting the market, when Nadia spoke up again. 

“I had my suspicions, as you are well aware,” Nadia agreed. 

Julian winced. “Right. So. The note. It wasn’t his handwriting.” 

He paused there, as though waiting for Nadia to argue. But she simply nodded, urging him on. 

“Even with that evidence, things weren’t adding up,” said Julian. “There was no sign of a struggle, and we all know Damian would have fought back.” 

The Queen nodded again. Even Meleia knew that Damian wouldn’t be dragged anywhere he didn’t want to go so easily. Which just made her wonder why anyone was talking about Damian running away in the first place. He’d seemed pretty adamant about staying and marrying the Majestro. 

The Majestro that she was about to meet. Tomorrow. If she weren’t about to get kicked out of the palace. 

“And Oswald was missing, too,” Julian added. “An ordinary kidnapper wouldn’t bother to take the prince’s pet along with him.”

“Agreed,” said Nadia. 

Meleia’s heart lurched. She hadn’t even thought about Oswald. Forge glanced around almost wildly at his friend’s name. He was probably looking for his bat buddy. Meleia gently patted his head in a sort of silent apology. 

“Then we searched the stables,” Julian went on. “And I found out that one of the palace horses was missing as well.” 

Portia pointedly cleared her throat. 

“I mean, uh, _she_ found out that one of the horses was missing,” Julian amended quickly. “With all of that, there was only one conclusion to come to. We thought-- no, _I_ thought that...” 

He trailed off. He glanced at both Portia and Meleia in turn. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t need to. Right then and there, they all came to a silent agreement. 

They couldn’t tell the Queen that they suspected Lucio. Not yet. 

Julian grimaced. “It must have been an inside job. We don’t know why. And we’re not sure how. But someone in the palace must have kidnapped Damian. My best guess is that someone didn’t want Vesuvia and Zadith to join up. But we all knew how important this all is for the kingdom. And how important it is to Damian.” 

Nadia’s stern look softened just the slightest bit. She almost looked regretful. 

“I wanted to make sure the Majestro didn’t give up on us,” Julian went on. “And the only way I could think to do that was to ensure that he had someone else to talk to. Since we couldn’t know who we could trust inside the palace...” 

“You found someone _outside_ the palace,” Nadia concluded. 

Julian nodded. “Exactly.” 

Nadia surveyed him for another long moment. Then she surveyed Portia. And Meleia, which almost made her hide her face in Forge’s fur again. At last, she seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. 

Meleia braced herself once more. Somehow, the fact that she probably wasn’t going to be thrown in the dungeon just yet wasn’t all that comforting.

“And you are absolutely certain that’s the full story?” Nadia asked. 

Her voice was soft. Almost gentle. But Meleia was still utterly unnerved. 

Julian gave a firm nod. 

“In that case,” said Nadia, “I have only one thing to say.” 

Julian’s shoulders slumped. He looked utterly defeated. Portia shifted nervously. Her eyes darted back and forth from Nadia to Julian. Meleia somehow managed to clutch Forge even tighter than before, which made Forge squirm in an attempt to escape. 

Then, to Meleia’s utter surprise, Nadia smirked. 

“I want in,” she said firmly. 

Portia gasped. Meleia openly gaped at the Queen. 

“Y-you... uh... you _what?_” Julian blurted out. He was staring at the Queen as though she had grown a second head. 

“I want in,” Nadia repeated. “If you firmly believe that this... _idea_ of yours will help find Damian, then I will offer you any assistance I can.” 

Julian looked like he couldn’t believe his ears. 

“While I must admit your actions were quite reckless,” said Nadia, “not to mention potentially dangerous and very nearly illegal...” 

“Only nearly?” Julian asked weakly. 

Meleia shot him a glare. 

“I cannot argue with your reasoning,” Nadia went on. “As much as I may want to.” 

At least Julian had the decency to look ashamed at that. 

“I cannot search for Damian myself,” said Nadia, sounding very much as if she desperately wanted to do just that. “Any help you could provide would be greatly appreciated, odd as that particular help may seem.” 

Both Julian and Portia looked completely at a loss for words. Nadia allowed herself a small smirk. Then she turned her attention back to Meleia. 

“Now,” she said, “what shall we do with you?” 

Meleia blanched under the Queen’s stare. 

“I mean no offence, Meleia...” Nadia began, only to quickly trail off and raise an eyebrow. “I assume that is your real name?” 

“Y-yes,” said Meleia. 

The Queen nodded. “Meleia, then. If you do intend to entertain the Majestro as a princess, you’ll need a _much_ better wardrobe. Starting with some new shoes.” 

Meleia self-consciously played with her skirts, trying to hide her feet. 

“And your hairpiece hardly qualifies as a royal circlet,” Nadia went on. “I can lend you one of my own.” 

Meleia stared, completely taken aback. “A royal...? You mean you’ll...?” 

“We can’t possibly predict how long it will take until Damian is found,” Nadia went on, apparently not even hearing Meleia. “I will be happy to provide appropriate finery for you until he is brought home.” 

Oh, gods. Not only was the Queen actually willing to help them, but she was going to give her clothes. _Royal finery_. 

“Your Majesty,” said Meleia almost pleadingly, “you don’t need to... I mean, I can’t accept something like that.” 

“Nonsense.” Nadia waved her concerns away. “I would gladly give more than a mere few gowns if it can ensure my son’s safe return.” 

Meleia didn’t know how to respond to that. She couldn’t even be sure if the _could_ ensure Damian’s safety. If they could bring him back at all. But she couldn't exactly refuse a Queen’s request... 

“That said, we will certainly need to find you something to wear for the Majestro’s arrival tomorrow,” Nadia went on. “A single new gown will hardly be an issue. I always keep a few on hand for gifts. I’m certain one of them _must_ be in your size.”

Meleia had thought her eyes couldn’t get any wider. She’d been wrong. 

“You mean...” she blurted out. “You mean I can _keep_ it?” 

Nadia raised an eyebrow. “The gown? Of course. Consider it your compensation for your help in finding my son.” 

Meleia went completely silent. She felt like the world was turning completely upside down. 

“Beyond that initial gown, we might hit a bit of trouble,” Nadia went on, completely unaware of the world-shattering thing she had just told Meleia. “I suppose it won’t be _too_ unexpected of me to ask the tailors to create something new for you, as well, though we will need to be careful with our finances, of course...” 

“Wait...” Portia blurted out. “You... you’re not mad? You’re really going to help us stall the Majestro?” 

Nadia blinked, looking more surprised than Meleia had ever seen her. 

“Of course,” she said simply. “To be perfectly honest, Portia, I’m a bit offended that you didn’t think to ask me for assistance at the start.” 

Portia turned bright red. “I... we... I didn’t want to bother you. You’re always so busy, especially with the whole Majestro thing, so I thought we could handle this all ourselves, but...” 

“Nonsense,” said Nadia again, raising her hand for silence once more. “You forget how much you have already done for me Portia. How often you outright save me on a daily basis.” 

Somehow, Portia managed to turn even redder than before.

“I trust your judgement,” Nadia said. She gave Portia a warm smile. “At times, I value your insight more than even Lucio’s.” 

The mention of the Count’s name made Meleia, Portia, and Julian all exchange a nervous glance. If the Queen noticed, she didn’t comment. 

“And Julian, I am very well aware that you know Damian better than nearly anyone else in the palace.” Nadia shot Julian an almost amused look. “Your teaching methods may occasionally be a bit unorthodox... as is this plan of yours...” 

Julian’s ears turned red again. 

“But you have always had Damian’s best interests at heart,” said Nadia. 

Even Meleia was smiling now. 

“Now.” Nadia’s tone shifted as she instantly took command. “It would look rather suspect if we changed all too much before dinner tonight, but I am certain we can find a more suitable pair of shoes, at the very least. Portia, I assume you already found a room for her?” 

Portia nodded. “I did, Milady.” 

“You may as well truly show her to her chambers, then,” said Nadia, the slightest trace of humor in her voice. “I am officially placing her under your care for as long as she may need to stay. And do make sure that one of the baths is reserved for our newest royal guest. We must ensure that she looks her best for her first meeting with the Majestro.” 

Portia’s grin lit up her entire face. “Of course, Milady!” 

The Queen nodded. Her gaze lingered on Portia for a moment more before she turned to Julian. 

“Julian...” 

Julian instantly straightened up. “Yes, Your Majesty?” 

“I believe you have some urgent business to attend to tonight, don’t you?” Nadia said pointedly. “You _did_ mention something about needing to leave as soon as dinner is over.” 

Julian stared at her for a moment more. Then he burst out laughing. 

“I did say something like that, didn’t I?” he chuckled. “Thank you for the reminder, Your Majesty.” 

Nadia’s smile crept even closer to a smirk. “Of course. Now that everything’s settled, I must return to my other guests. I wish you luck. All of you. And Meleia...” 

Meleia jumped. Forge squeaked again. The poor fox was getting too much cuddling for his own good. 

“I am looking forward to having you join our discussions,” said Nadia. To Meleia’s surprise, she sounded completely honest. “Your unique insight on kingdom financial matters may prove quite useful.” 

Meleia still didn’t have the capability to form actual words. So she just nodded. 

Nadia gave her a graceful nod in return. Then she swept back down the hallway. In a moment, she was gone. 

“That... went _much_ better than I ever could have planned,” said Julian, breaking the silence. 

Meleia thought that summed things up pretty well. 

“I guess we really _should_ have just told her,” said Portia. For an instant, she sounded guilty. But then her sunny demeanor returned. “Come on, Meleia. Let’s go find you those new shoes.” 

Meleia allowed herself to be all but dragged down the hall by Portia. Her heart was pounding. A thousand emotions warred inside her. She was grateful, of course, and extraordinarily relieved that the Queen was on her side. But how willing she had been to not only help, but to offer some of the palace’s own resources, resources that Meleia wasn’t sure could be spared... it was overwhelming. She didn’t know how to handle it all. 

In the end, though, it didn’t seem like much had changed. She knew that the change was _enormous. _ Help from the Queen was far more than they ever could have imagined. 

But Damian was still in trouble. And Meleia still had to perform her role as Princess of Nevivon well enough to keep the Majestro in Vesuvia. Not to mention keeping Lucio out of the loop... and quite possibly make sure that the Count didn’t catch Julian as he went off to find Damian. 

This was just getting more and more complicated. 

She could only hope that Damian wasn’t hurt. Wherever he was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so happy that I finally got to this chapter! 
> 
> One of my biggest issues with the original movie is that the Queen COULDN'T TELL THE DIFFERENCE between Erica and Annalise DESPITE hearing Erica's singing voice. I don't know a single mom who doesn't know what their kid sounds like when they sing. (Maybe I'm a little spoiled since I'm a singer myself but I digress.) I knew right away that Nadia was way too smart to fall for something like this. But she'd do anything to get her loved ones home safe. So now the scheme is really on!


	22. Into the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things go from bad to worse

Damian had no idea how long or how far he had traveled. All he knew was that he was in the city. Somewhere. 

He was traveling on foot, now. He’d let Appleberry go back towards the palace on his own. Damian was certain that Appleberry would be found, recognized, and eventually brought back to the stables... or he would simply follow the smell of oats or apples or what-have-you and wander back on his own. 

Either way seemed safer than helping Damian wander aimlessly through the streets in hope of finding the Clothing Emporium. 

He wrapped the borrowed blanket closer around his shoulders. It was getting colder. And he was getting more and more exhausted by the moment. A part of him simply wanted to find the nearest hidey-hole and curl up to sleep. Oswald had apparently had the same idea. Or at least the curling-up-in-the-nearest-warm-spot part. The bat was currently tucked as deep into one of Damian’s pockets as he could possibly go. Damian thought he completely understood how Oswald felt. 

But he couldn’t afford to rest. Not now. Not when so much had gone so wrong. 

He had to find help. And he had to find it _ fast. _

It really didn’t help that everything was so dark. The market was closed down for the night, and very few windows were lit. Most of the ones that were belonged to particularly noisy buildings... probably the kind of buildings that Julian would have labeled _ bad places to bring a prince. _ After all of Julian’s talk about it, Damian sincerely hoped he hadn’t wandered into the South End. 

The last thing he needed right then was even _ more _ trouble. 

There was no way to tell how long he wandered for. How many signs he squinted at in the dark, trying to read. It was nearly impossible to even make out the pictures, which were far more common than any written words. 

The dark and the quiet were only natural at this time of night. But it was a completely eerie, unwelcoming effect. 

He pressed on. He kept walking. And he silently hoped that things weren’t going _ too _ horribly back at the Palace. At the very least, he prayed that things were salvageable. 

At last, he found a rather large shop at the edge of a street. It seemed slightly fancier than the others. Even the path to it was cleaner; everything was very neatly swept. There was a faint glimmer to one of the windows, indicating that someone might have been awake. It provided just enough light for Damian to make out the design on the sign. And to his surprise, there was actually text. Meticulously painted, overly-fancy text. 

He’d found the Clothing Emporium. At last. 

Throwing all decorum out the window, Damian pounded against the shop door. 

“Meleia!” he shouted. “Please, I need your help!” 

Nothing. No one came to the door. 

Damian just knocked harder. 

“Let me in!” he begged. “Someone, please, I have to--”

He was cut off as the door abruptly slammed open, so violently that Damian nearly fell on top of the figure in the doorway. The tall figure glared down at Damian from under their nightcap, somehow keeping their eyes dead on the prince as they tightened the tie of their dressing gown.

“Who are you?” sneered the figure, who must have been Lord Valerius. 

“I need your help,” Damian said breathlessly. “The palace is--”

Valerius scoffed. “Another stooge from the palace, then? It seems the mighty Royal Family is either particularly unobservant or simply refuses to keep their word.” 

Damian blinked, utterly bemused. “What are you...?”

“If you are looking for my stitching girl, you are far too late,” Valerius snapped. “Not only have you nearly broken down my door at an ungodly hour of the evening, but you have somehow failed to receive the message that Meleia has already been stolen from me by one of your fellow simpering servants.” 

This information so surprised Damian that he barely even realized the entire palace staff had just been insulted. 

“Meleia’s at the palace?” he gasped. 

Valerius’ glare somehow turned colder. “Clearly. Now, run back to your precious Queen before I call the guards on you for public disturbance.” 

Valerius pulled back, moving to close the door in Damian’s face. 

“No, wait!” Damian desperately lurched forward. “The palace didn’t send me! I mean, technically I am _ from _ the palace, but I’m not here on any orders. And I am no so-called _ stooge."_

Valerius scoffed. “You are merely some layabout wasting my precious time, then?” 

“No!” Damian cried again. “I’m not trying to…” 

Damian trailed off. He sighed and attempted to collect himself. It was time to try a little decorum. 

“Good sir, I sincerely apologize for the disturbance.” 

Valerius cocked an eyebrow. Damian plowed on. 

“My name is Prince Damian. I just escaped from captivity. There’s a plot against me—I believe either a ransom or some kind of coup. I have to stop them. But I can’t do it alone.” 

There was a long pause. The air felt heavy. Damian could feel Valerius’ cold gaze scan him, searching for any hint of a lie. 

It was hard for Damian to blame him for that scrutiny. If Damian were the one listening to an utterly disheveled young man wearing an old blanket raving about a plot to overthrow the royal family, he would most likely have had his doubts, too. 

“If you truly are His Highness,” Valerius hissed, “then why have you come here instead of calling for your own guards?” 

“I was turned away at the gates,” Damian said breathlessly. “By a new guard, a guard who didn’t... who I didn’t recognize. Whoever is behind this already has at least _ some _ control over the palace.” 

Valerius hardly blinked. He looked utterly unconvinced. 

Damian straightened up, trying to look as noble as possible. He met Valerius’ cold gaze head on. 

“I need Meleia’s help,” he insisted. “I…” he faltered for only an instant before forcing his voice to stop trembling. “I have nowhere else to turn.” 

It was another long moment before Valerius spoke again. 

“Well,” he said coolly. “That does sound like quite the predicament, doesn’t it?” 

Damian’s stance faltered. His pulse quickened. Had it actually worked? 

Valerius took two pointed steps back. “It seems we have much to discuss. Come, Your Highness.” 

Without another word, he swept deeper into the shop, leaving the door open just wide enough for Damian to follow. 

Damian hesitated for a split second before heading inside. 

He followed Valerius through the main section of the shop, past elegant cushioned seats and racks upon racks of fine clothing. Damian’s heart lurched unpleasantly as he passed countless examples of what he now recognized as Meleia’s handiwork. The fact that Oswald was still shaking inside his tunic did nothing to help his nerves. He didn’t even have the wherewithal to give Oswald a comforting pat. 

Meleia was already at the palace. Someone had come to the shop and specifically summoned her. Why? Damian couldn’t help but think it must have had something to do with his own kidnapping. The timing was too perfect. 

But he couldn’t see the connection. Meleia wasn’t linked to any nobility. And she had only met Damian a few days ago, so there was no reason to—

Oh. Oh, _ no _. Perhaps someone had found out that she had become friends with him. If they knew Damian had someone willing to help outside the palace… perhaps they had made certain that she couldn’t interfere. 

He could only pray she was safe.

And if the threat was inside the palace, then it was highly likely that Julian was already in trouble. Damian had to find a way to stop this. He had to help them. 

A tiny click jerked Damian back to reality. Valerius had unlocked a small side door that blended in so perfectly with the wall that it was almost invisible. Silently, he tossed the door open and stepped inside. He didn’t so much as gesture for Damian to follow. Damian had to assume he was supposed to follow anyway. 

Stepping into the small back room was like stepping into an entirely different world from the front of the shop. The room was cluttered with piles upon piles of fabrics, clearly overflowing from the cracked shelves. There was no real furniture aside from an old rickety table and two hard wooden stools. The only light was provided by a small candle, the flame barely clinging to life. 

Damian’s brows scrunched in disgust. No one should be forced to work in a place like this. 

But it seemed someone was. A woman with stringy red curls lay slumped over the table, her head pillowed on a half-made dress. She snored slightly as she slept. 

Valerius glared down at the woman with an expression of utter loathing. He slammed his hand down on the table, making her jolt awake with a yelp. 

“Volta!” Valerius snarled. “These dresses should have been made long before now. And yet you see fit to sleep on the job?” 

“Oh, oh, Master Valerius!” the woman—Volta—stuttered. “I did not mean to sleep! I was so tired, and so hungry! And it is so dark, so very dark, so hard to see what—”

“Enough!” Valerius snapped. 

Volta jumped and whimpered in fear. 

Damian took a step forward, glaring at Valerius. “Now wait just a moment--!”

Valerius ignored the prince. He just kept berating Volta. 

“You lazy little rat!” he growled. “If you had an inkling of sense, you would have been able to finish more than a single sleeve by now!” 

“How _ dare _ you speak to her that way?” Damian snapped. “You cannot blame her for falling asleep. This is no time for anyone to be working!” 

For a moment, Valerius stood deathly still. Then he turned to Damian, moving dangerously slowly. 

“_ How dare I _?” he repeated. “She works for me. I can speak to her however I want.” 

“Not if you intend to keep your shop,” Damian fired back. 

Valerius cocked an eyebrow. “Are you truly attempting to threaten the very man you came to seeking assistance? My, my. It seems the royal household may need to hire more competent tutors. You appear to be quite lacking in decorum.” 

Damian’s blood boiled. “There is _ nothing _ wrong with my tutor.” 

“Then perhaps you should have gone to your _ precious tutor _ for assistance,” Valerius snapped. 

Damian’s hands started trembling. He would have gone to Julian if he could. And he knew that Julian would have done anything to help. Now Damian was left alone, with nothing to do but sincerely hope that, whatever was going on, Julian wasn’t in _ too _ much trouble. 

Not that Damian had a lot of faith in that idea. Julian did always have a knack for being reckless... 

Still, Damian refused to back down. He glared at Valerius. 

“I have already told you about the situation at the palace,” said Damian coldly. “But, at the moment, it seems your Miss Volta needs more assistance than I do.” 

“Only because she refuses to do an honest day’s work,” Valerius scoffed. 

Volta whimpered again, her hands wringing. 

“You said it yourself,” Damian replied. “This is an ungodly hour of the night.” 

“And she will remain working until everything is complete, no matter what the hour,” said Valerius. “This is _ my _ shop. And I will have everything as it should be.” 

Damian’s glare only grew stronger. Meleia had certainly downplayed how awful Valerius could be. How _ wrong _ this entire situation was. 

“Well,” Damian hissed. “It’s clear to me that, once this mess has all been sorted out, there will need to be some changes around here.” 

For the first time, Volta’s face lit with the tiniest bit of hope. 

But Valerius only let out another scoff. “You have no power to change _ anything, _ princeling.” 

“What are you talking about?” Damian demanded. 

Valerius stepped away from the work table, circling the room. Damian shifted along with him, never letting Valerius out of his sights. 

“I have heard much about you, Your Highness,” said Valerius coldly. “You are, after all, held in such high regard. However, now that I have seen you in person... I admit I am quite disappointed.” 

“I’m _ so _ sorry for the inconvenience,” Damian said sarcastically. 

Valerius chuckled. “On the contrary, your arrival here is _ wonderfully _ convenient. After all, you have almost literally walked right into my hands.” 

“What are you...?” 

Valerius slammed the workroom door shut. He stood solidly before it, as though daring Damian to try to exit. 

“I’m afraid I cannot allow our dear little princeling to escape once again,” said Valerius. 

Damian instantly shifted his stance, ready for a fight. “So _ you’re _ behind all this.” 

“Not quite,” Valerius sneered. “Nor had I fully expected to play such an integral part. But I cannot say I oppose it all.” 

“Oh, certainly not,” Damian snarled. “I suppose it’s only for the sake of Miss Volta that I’m alive right now? Or do you just not want to get your dressing gown dirty?” 

Volta whimpered again. The sound was so piteous it nearly broke Damian’s heart. But he didn’t have time to worry about that right this moment. 

“Ah, so Vesuvia’s prized little prince is a comedian as well.” Valerius simply shook his head. “No, boy, we have no reason for you to be dead. Though you had best get any idea of escape out of your mind. You’ll find I’m far more competent than any of the other goons you may have faced before.” 

Damian refused to be cowed. “Whatever you want from me, you aren’t going to get it.” 

“You?” Valerius scoffed. “_ You _ are but a piece on the game board. No, my only objective is to remove the Queen from her throne.” 

“And why might that be?” Damian pressed. 

He didn’t actually expect to get any real information out of him. But Valerius seemed to love the sound of his own voice. If Damian could just keep him talking, maybe he could stall enough to find an escape route... 

“You do of course, realize that the so-called ‘Queen’ was born in a distant kingdom, far from Vesuvia?” said Valerius. 

Damian’s glare hardened. “Your point?” 

“My _ point, _” Valerius snarled, “is that she is ignorant. She knows nothing of our ways.” 

“She is doing everything she can to help Vesuvia thrive,” Damian said hotly. 

Valerius let out another little scoff. “Of course her pampered little prince would defend her. You were hand-picked to rule just as she was, were you not? And yet no consideration was given to those that _ rightfully _ should have taken the throne.” 

Volta sounded like she was close to sobbing now. Damian didn’t dare turn his back on Valerius to look. 

“And you think _ you _ should rule Vesuvia,” said Damian coldly. “I didn’t know a tailor could have such nerve.” 

“I _ would _ do a far better job than that porcelain doll,” Valerius spat, “but no. I only want the kingdom to be restored to order. For things to fall back into place.” 

“What _ order? _” Damian demanded.

“The order that this Prakran _ interloper _ has cast aside from the moment she took power!” Valerius was nearly screaming with rage. “The festivals, the extravagant balls, the wild parties that raved on through weeks without end... all the things that allow an establishment such as mine to tread above water, as it were... all gone. And all thanks to her.” 

Damian only vaguely remembered Nadia doing anything to quell any raucous festivals. He knew she hadn’t thrown a ball in a while, partially because lavish parties were far more Lucio’s style than her own, but other than that, Valerius’ ravings didn’t make much sense. 

Still. He had to keep Valerius talking. And Damian refused to let his mother be insulted like that. 

“Queen Nadia is very wise,” Damian hissed. “She knows that frivolous spending will only lead to--” 

Valerius let out a cold, cruel laugh. “Ah, yes. And her declaring the end to our celebrations did _ wonders _ for those who still starve in the streets, did it not?” 

“That is exactly what we’re fighting against!” Damian cried. “When our union with Zadith is complete...” 

“We’ll have another fool in the throne,” Valerius shot back. “Tell me, princeling. What do you know of Vesuvia?” 

It thoroughly shamed Damian that he had to hesitate before he answered. 

“Vesuvia is my home,” said Damian. “I would do anything for my kingdom.” 

“Then you had best make yourself comfortable,” Valerius snarled. “For I am not going to let you interfere with our plan. Once someone who _ truly _ knows how to keep his kingdom happy is on the throne... well. You had best hope he continues to find a use for you.” 

He whirled around and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Damian instantly lurched forward, lunging at the door. But he was too far away. There was no way he could make it in time. 

There was a definite, almost final _ click. _ Valerius had locked him in. 

Damian pulled desperately at the door handle. Of course, it didn’t budge. 

He was trapped all over again. 

Damian growled in sheer fury. He pounded his fists against the door. He tried to break the handle. He even kicked the door, which was just as ineffective as everything else he’d tried, but at least it made him feel a little better. 

At last, defeated, he let his head droop against the door. 

So much for finding help. And, to add insult to injury, he still had no idea who was truly behind this scheme. Or what had happened to Julian. Or, for that matter, what had happened to Meleia or Portia or anyone who might have been able to do anything about this. All he had was Oswald, still quivering in his tunic, and Volta, who had scurried underneath the table in fear. 

Damian still wished there were something he could do for Volta. And, now more than ever, he wanted to make sure Meleia got out of this horrible place. 

As if it wasn’t enough that the entire kingdom seemed to be in jeopardy. 

He let out another groan of sheer frustration. It took all of his effort to avoid bursting into tears. 

How in the world was he supposed to fix any of this if he couldn’t even save himself? 


	23. The Princess Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things continue to spiral downhill.

Julian hadn’t expected everything would go so smoothly. 

He did exactly what the Queen had suggested and stayed for dinner before ducking out. Dinner itself was a marvelous affair. The Ambassador certainly seemed keen to get to know Meleia. He had her talking and laughing within the first few minutes. And though the Queen peppered in a few comments of her own, which the Ambassador replied to far more easily than Meleia did, Julian couldn’t help but notice how often the Ambassador’s eyes kept flicking over to Meleia. The glances were subtle, hardly even worth mentioning, but they certainly stuck out to Julian. 

After all, Julian knew that trick all too well. How many times had he shot the same looks at Damian? 

Julian’s heart ached. Every time he thought about his prince, trapped in some potentially awful place, or maybe even lost in the forest... it was very hard to keep himself from dashing off and just abandoning dinner. 

But he had to be patient. He had to see things through. Just like Damian would have. 

He hoped he would get to tell Damian all about the Ambassador pouring attention on Meleia. Attention that Meleia didn’t seem to know what to do with, but apparently enjoyed nonetheless. 

It was all rather sweet, really. Julian hoped it would work out for the two of them. 

Even if the chance of a Royal Ambassador and a shopkeep having any hope of a future together was about as likely as a prince and a tutor having the same. 

And he was certain  _ that _ particular future would never happen. 

_ Stop thinking about that, _ he told himself.  _ Find Damian first. Worry about everything else later. _

Julian couldn’t relax all throughout dinner, even when he was watching the Ambassador and Meleia enjoying each other’s company. As if this whole thing wasn’t stressful enough, the Count had elected to stay for the meal as well. Luico seemed unperturbed by recent events. He was bragging, making a mess, throwing scraps to his dogs, and generally being a nuisance. Just like usual. 

Though the Count  _ did _ try to interrupt the Ambassador’s stories, interjecting with a few of his own. More than once. And each time he earned little more than a cold look from the Ambassador. 

That didn’t even come close to getting Lucio to shut up. But then again, hardly anything ever did. 

At last, dinner was over. Lucio quickly excused himself, though, oddly enough, he allowed his dogs to stay behind to hunt for scraps. Julian wanted to tail him right then and there, but he knew that would be a foolish idea. He waited until Portia escorted Meleia back to her chambers. Then Julian made his grand announcement that something urgent had come up, and he apologizes deeply for the inconvenience, but he really did have to run, and he didn’t know when he would be back. 

Queen Nadia, naturally, was very understanding. Even the Ambassador gave him a sympathetic sort of look, which Julian had not been expecting. 

Meleia had a point. He really did seem nice. 

Just another thing he couldn’t afford to think about at the moment. Not until Damian was safe at home. 

Julian went to the stables first, borrowing one of the palace horses for just long enough to get to the Dark Forest. Lucio’s favorite white steed was notably absent, of course. At least Lucio wouldn’t be hard to spot in the woods. 

At least, Julian  _ thought _ he wouldn’t be hard to spot. But even after dismounting and letting his own steed wander back to the palace-- all palace horses knew the way home, and Julian had no way of knowing how long he would be gone-- he still found absolutely no sign of the Count. 

Julian considered the possibility that the Count might not have come here at all. That he might actually be in the city. 

But Julian was certain that Lucio  _ had _ been here. Recently. And it was still the only lead he had. 

So he walked into the forest and started looking for clues. 

He wandered for a long while. He found footprints, and hoof-prints, but they were all staggered and there were far too many of them for Julian to make real sense of. Of all the things he’d done in the past, he’d never bothered to learn how to track people. Of course. Why didn’t he ever bother to learn anything  _ useful? _

Then Julian found the old carriage, abandoned in a thicker part of the wood. It had clearly seen better days... but it didn’t look like it had been there for long. Whoever had left it behind hadn’t even bothered to try to hide it.

Julian clambored inside, inspecting it. All he could tell was that it was completely empty, and it hadn’t come from the palace. He climbed back out, defeated... and spotted the ruts the carriage had left in the ground. They made a very clear path deeper into the forest. 

Well. It wasn’t like Julian had any better clues to follow. 

He hadn’t even been following the trail for a mile before he heard a voice. A very familiar, very loud voice. 

“ _ I SAID OPEN UP! _ ” 

Julian allowed himself a triumphant smirk. He’d know Lucio’s signature scream anywhere. And it sounded like he was pounding his golden arm on a door. 

Julian saw a glimmer of light up ahead, in the exact direction Lucio’s shouts were coming from. He crept closer, doing his best to keep in the cover of the trees. What he wouldn’t give for that black coat right about now... 

The forest opened up into a clearing. An old cabin sat at the edge of said clearing, squashed up against the trees. Its windows were boarded up. The door seemed to be the most solid part of the whole thing. And Lucio was apparently attempting to knock it down. 

“ _ LET ME IN, YOU IDIOTS! _ ” he hollered. 

The door creaked open. A skinny, wrinkly sort of man with wiry silver hair poked his head out. He looked utterly terrified. 

“O-oh, hello, Mr. Boss!” the man sniveled. “We, uh, didn’t think you’d be coming tonight!” 

“That’s no excuse for locking me out!” Lucio snapped. “Where’s Vulgora? They’re supposed to be in here with you!” 

“They are!” the skinny guy said quickly. “They just... it was my turn to report to you! They  _ insisted _ on it!” 

“ _ LIAR! _ ” another voice bellowed from inside. “I  _ said _ it was  _ my _ turn to stay in front of the prince’s door! Can’t you get  _ anything _ right?” 

Julian automatically leaned closer, desperate to hear everything. 

So. Lucio  _ had _ been behind all this after all. But why? And why keep Damian so close by? What was the point of all this? 

Lucio let out a long-suffering sigh. “It doesn’t really  _ matter _ , does it? As long as the prince is still locked up and out of our way.” 

“He is!” the skinny guy practically yelped. “Of  _ course _ he is! Where else would he be? As you can see, everything is just fine here, so if you don’t mind, we were about to... to start a card game! Yes, that’s it! If you’ll excuse us, we’ll just...” 

As he rambled, he tried to close the door in Lucio’s face. Lucio’s golden arm shot out and caught the door. He shoved it forward, knocking the skinny guy onto the floor. Without a word, Lucio shoved past him and stomped into the cabin. 

Julian rushed forward. Crouched so low he was practically crawling, he snuck over to one of the boarded up windows. He suspected that the darker window off to his right was the room where they were keeping Damian, but as much as he wanted to just burst in, grab Damian, and run, he didn’t want to risk a scuffle with Lucio and his apparent hench-people. Julian had been in a few tussles before, and he really didn’t care about getting hurt himself, but he wouldn’t let any further harm come to Damian. 

He risked a peek through the cracks in the wood, glancing through what little of the window he could. It was just enough to see inside the cabin’s main room. Lucio stood before a person in red, beetle-like armor. Probably that Vulgora, whoever they were. Julian was hard pressed to tell which one looked more dangerous at the moment: Vulgora or Lucio. 

“There now,” Lucio hissed. “That’s better. Whatever happened to your usual hospitality?” 

The room was silent. Lucio stepped further in, putting himself directly between his two cohorts. He beamed at them, looking as though he expected them to start singing his praises or something. Of course, no one moved. And Lucio’s grin slipped slowly off of his face. 

“Well?” he snapped. “Aren’t you going to give me the rest of your report?” 

Neither of his cohorts answered. 

Lucio glowered. “Something’s off,” he hissed. “Something nobody wants to tell me.” 

Silence again. 

Lucio made a noise that was close to a snarl. “Where. Is. He?” 

Julian nearly pressed his nose against the window in his attempt to get a better look. What was he talking about? What was going on? 

Vulgora crossed their arms. They didn’t say a word. 

Skinny Guy pushed himself shakily to his feet. “Ah, where’s who, exactly?” 

Lucio whirled on him, golden arm flashing. 

“The  _ prince,  _ you moron!” he roared. 

Skinny Guy yelped and instantly dropped to the floor again. Vulgora was nowhere near so intimidated. 

“Where do you think?” they shot back. “We have the only key to this door. And it’s the dead of night. He’s sleeping, unless your  _ yelling _ has managed to wake him up!” 

“If  _ anyone’s _ woken him up, it’s you,” Lucio scoffed. 

He glared at the only other door in the cabin. The door that Vulgora was standing resolutely in front of. 

“Well?” Lucio snapped. “Open it.” 

Skinny Guy lifted his head off the ground, though he looked ready to duck back down and slink off in an instant. 

“Y-you really shouldn’t bother him, Boss,” Skinny Guy whimpered. “He  _ is _ a royal, you know! Royals can get quite nasty when they haven’t had their beauty sleep!” 

Lucio snorted. “The only ‘royals’ I see are you two. You’re both a  _ royal pain in my behind! _ ” 

Lucio struck so suddenly that Julian barely saw it happen. One second his golden arm lashed out. The next, Vulgora had been shoved aside. Vulgora barely got the chance to get a good shout in and try to fight back before Lucio had clawed the handle right off the door. He nearly ripped the door of its hinges as he vanished into the side room. 

Silence. Three full seconds of complete dead silence. 

“ _ YOU LET HIM ESCAPE? _ ” 

Lucio’s furious roar sent birds flying out of the trees, screeching in protest. Lucio burst back into the main room like a white and gold whirlwind. He snatched Vulgora up by the throat and pinned them against the wall. Vulgora instantly started to struggle. 

“ _ HOW COULD YOU LET HIM ESCAPE?”  _ Lucio bellowed. 

“IT WAS VLASTOMIL’S FAULT!” Vulgora hollered back. 

Both Lucio and Vulgora glared at Skinny Guy-- or Vlastomil, apparently. Vlastomil yelped and tried to crawl out the door. 

“ _ YOU DISGUSTING LITTLE WORM! _ ” Lucio roared. 

He released Vulgora and stalked towards Vlastomil. Vlastomil did his utmost best to wriggle away. 

“It wasn’t just me!” Vlastomil protested. “Vulgora tried to murder the sheet!” 

“You were the one who told me to punch it!” Vulgora yelled. 

“SHUT UP!” Lucio shouted. 

His cohorts instantly shut up. Though Vulgora didn’t look too happy about it. And Vlastomil kept trying to stealthily slide towards the door. Considering he had all the stealth of an old, blind elephant, it didn’t work out too well for him. 

“I don’t have time for your foolish arguing!” Lucio snapped. “Tell me! Who helped him? Who set the prince free?” 

Vulgora and Vlastomil exchanged a glance. Vlastomil whined again, a wordless wail of terror. Vulgora scoffed, crossed their arms, and resolutely turned away. 

Lucio raised a single eyebrow at Vulgora. Then he turned his glare right back on Vlastomil. 

Vlastomil folded like a bad hand of cards. 

“N-no one helped him, my lord!” he squeaked. “He... he tricked us! He made it look like there was a ghost and you  _ know _ no one likes ghosts and he was screaming so we thought he was...” 

“Enough!” Lucio barked. 

Vlastomil yelped again before falling silent. 

“I can understand how he tricked  _ you _ , Vlastomil,” Lucio snarled. “But Vulgora... I’m disappointed. You’re supposed to be better than that.” 

Vulgora glared at the Count. The look was absolutely venomous. But Lucio, naturally, didn’t seem to notice. He started pacing, the high heels of his boots thudding ominously against the wood floor. 

“Damian has always been resourceful,” he murmured, thinking aloud. “I suppose I couldn’t have expected him to sit quietly. Which is exactly why I had you  _ both _ on  _ guard duty!” _

He glared at Vulgora again, as though this were entirely their fault. Vulgora scoffed. 

“Maybe you should have guarded him yourself,” they snapped. “Instead of wasting all our time.” 

Lucio barked out a laugh. “Oh, of  _ course! _ As if I have plenty of time of my own! Now I suppose you’ll expect  _ me _ to go hunt down the prince  _ again _ \-- _ ” _

“What do you mean  _ again? _ ” Vulgora demanded. “We did all the work last time!” 

“...when I need to keep visiting the palace to make sure that simpering Ambassador and that ridiculous Princess don’t suspect anything!” Lucio went on. He hadn’t even heard Vulgora. 

But Vulgora had clearly heard him. 

“What princess?” Vulgora snapped. 

“You mean you’re getting  _ more _ royalty involved?” Vlastomil wailed. 

Lucio scoffed. He waved his cohorts’ concerns away. 

“You know, the Princess of Nevivon,” he said flippantly. “Came to visit dear Noddy. Something about trade routes or whatever. Though her timing is incredibly inconvenient...” 

“P-princess of where?” Vlastomil stuttered. 

“Nevivon,” Lucio repeated. “That dinky little port kingdom where Jules and his pesky sister came... from....” 

He trailed off. His eyes widened in horrible realisation. 

Julian had to bite back a swear. He was tempted to get out while he still could, to rush away from the window and hide out in the forest. If Damian had escaped, he probably hadn’t gotten far. Julian needed to find him. 

But Lucio was so close to revealing his plan. And didn’t Damian always try to gather all the information he could? Julian felt he would be much more of a help to the prince if he could tell Damian the full plan, so they could find a way to stop it. Together. 

For however long  _ together _ lasted. 

“I do believe Jules  _ was _ starting to suspect me...” Lucio mused. “Then again, I doubt he’s on a first-name basis with any foreign royals.” 

Julian held his breath, forcing down a sigh of relief. 

His relief was short-lived. 

“Who  _ is _ this princess, anyway?” Vlastomil asked. He still hadn’t quite gotten up off the floor, but at least he wasn’t squirming around like a worm anymore. 

“I dunno,” said Lucio. “Never heard of her before. Never bothered to learn much about Nevivon.” He whirled on Vlastomil. “You! Tell me everything you know about Nevivon!” 

Vlastomil jumped. “Nothing! Nothing at all! I would  _ never _ worry about anything across the sea when I still have to tend to my little--”

“If you say ‘worms’ ONE more time I will RIP YOU INTO PIECES that even  _ THEY  _ WOULDN’T EAT!” Vulgora bellowed. 

Vlastomil was instantly on the floor in terror again. 

Lucio looked mildly amused at these antics. He turned to Vulgora. 

“Well, then. What about you?” he asked. “Any idea what’s going on in Nevivon?” 

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Vulgora scoffed. “Useless, tiny kingdom. Not even worth conquering.” 

“Then why is the little princess wasting her time pleading to such a vast and glorious kingdom as Nevivon?” Lucio wondered aloud. “And just when Noddy started looking from help from an even more wealthy kingdom?” 

“Not that Vesuvia’s all that wealthy at the moment,” Vlastomil pointed out. 

“Thanks to  _ us, _ ” Vulgora snarled. 

Julian had to put a hand over his mouth to stifle a gasp. Lucio and his cronies weren’t just behind Damian’s kidnapping, but they were behind the kingdom’s bankruptcy, too? He was almost glad he’d stayed to eavesdrop. He had to find out what was going on. He leaned in closer, straining to hear. He didn’t notice that the old windowsill started to crack under his hand. 

“It really is a puzzle, isn’t it?” said Lucio, once again ignoring his cohorts. “Looks like I’ll have to add solving this princess problem to my list of things to if my plan is going to succeed.” 

Vulgora glared at him. “And I assume finding the prince is at the top of your list?” 

“Oh, no,” said Lucio. “It’s at the top of  _ yours _ .” 

Both Vulgora and Vlastomil started to protest at once. Very loudly. Julian pulled back. It looked like he would have to get a move on if he wanted any chance of saving Damian. 

“SHUT UP!” Lucio roared again. “You  _ both _ know I need that pampered princeling in my grasp if I am to become king!” 

Julian stopped short. King?  _ Lucio? _ _ That _ was what he’d been after this whole time? 

Almost despite himself, he dove back to the window, desperate to hear more. He braced himself against the windowsill... which promptly crumbled underneath him. 

The sound of old stone cracking and hitting the ground wasn’t all that loud. But it was enough. The cabin went dead silent. 

Julian scrambled backwards. But he didn’t get far. Lucio burst out the front door. For a moment, the Count’s eyes blazed with absolute fury. Then he saw Julian. And he smirked. 

“Well, well,” he sneered. “Hello, Jules. What are we doing out here so late at night? Looking for something you’ve lost, perhaps?” 

Julian took a wary step back. His fists were clenched. He knew he wouldn’t win a fight against Lucio. But he was ready for one anyway.

“Did you really think you would get away with this, Lucio?” said Julian with the bravest voice he could manage. “How could we ever allow someone as slimy as  _ you _ to be king?” 

Normally, the insult to Lucio’s appearance would have sent him in a rage. But Lucio just laughed. 

“Poor little Jules,” he said with a cold grin. “You’ve lost your touch, haven’t you? I thought the best tutor in all of Vesuvia was supposed to have all the answers.” 

Julian didn’t get a chance to respond. He didn’t get a chance to fight back. 

Vulgora and Vlastomil had snuck up behind him. And Julian was overpowered in a matter of seconds.


	24. Palace Perks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author is very jealous of the palace baths.

When Meleia woke up the next morning, a part of her was still firmly convinced she was dreaming. 

There she was, inside the Palace itself, lying on a luxuriously soft bed in a silken nightgown, bundled up in several plush blankets, snuggled blissfully up against far too many pillows, with Forge curled up right at the back of her knees. She didn’t need to worry about hiding Forge from Valerius. She didn’t need to worry about being rudely woken up by said strict boss and sent straight to work. And for the first time in her life, she had plenty of room all to herself. She was warm, and fed, and far beyond happy. 

This couldn’t be real. What had she done to deserve any of this? 

Someone knocked gently on the door. Meleia did not want to get up. She mumbled a bit, practically curling into a fetal position as she clutched a pillow closer to her chest. 

“Good morning, Princess!” Portia’s voice rang out, bright and clear. “I’ve brought your breakfast!” 

Meleia’s eyes snapped open. Breakfast? In _ bed? _

This really _ was _ too good to be true. 

She’d just managed to sit up and try to brush her hair out of her face when Portia slid the door open. She must have somehow managed to open the door with only her foot, since she was completely laden with an enormous tray that was utterly covered with delicious food. Something was draped across her arm, too: some kind of multicolored fabric. But Meleia hardly noticed. She was so distracted by the food tray. She could only stare at it, wide-eyed, hardly able to believe what she was seeing. 

Portia put the tray on the little table by Meleia’s bed as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Meleia had no idea how she managed to balance it; the tray was bigger than the table. And it must have been incredibly heavy, as it was nearly buried under an enormous plate full of delicately sliced fruit, an entire pitcher full of something that smelled wonderfully sweet settled next to an empty goblet, a huge bowl of what must have been porridge, and an entire loaf of bread. The delicious aroma was almost overwhelming. 

“You ready for another big day?” Portia asked. 

She strode over to the window and tossed the curtains open, letting light flood the room. Just another detail that made it all feel like a dream. 

Meleia tried to form a response, but she was so dazzled that she couldn’t even create proper words. 

“I... uh...” was all that Meleia managed to say. 

Portia giggled. “I know, it’s a lot, right? But you were really amazing yesterday. I don’t think that Ambassador ever took his eyes off you.” 

She shot Meleia a wink, which made Meleia blush. 

Then Portia went right back to work, laying a gown across Meleia’s sofa-- which reminded Meleia of two things in very quick succession. One, that the Queen had not only discovered their plan but actually _ liked _ it and had chosen to go along with it, and that Meleia’s room _ had a sofa. _

“Milady found a new gown for you,” said Portia. “She has the best taste in the world. I’m sure you’ll look incredible. Even _ Lucio _ won’t be able to say you aren’t a princess when Milady and I are done with you!” 

And just like that, all of Meleia’s joy started to ebb away. 

Of course. She wasn’t just some pampered guest. She was here on a mission. She was here to give Julian enough time to find Damian. 

Julian had left late last night. And Meleia had barely noticed him go. She had no idea where he was, or what he was planning to do, or when he would ever get back. She couldn’t even be sure he _ would _ get back. 

She felt guilty for being so happy earlier. 

Portia must have noticed her shift in mood. Her own face fell. She hesitated for a split second, then sat down on the bed right next to Meleia. That woke Forge up. He looked at Portia and cocked his head, confused. Portia abselty scratched Forge’s head, her real focus on Meleia.

“Hey,” she said gently. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” said Meleia quickly. 

Portia was completely unconvinced. 

“You sound just like Ilya,” she said, pulling a face. “He’s always pretending he’s alright, too. But, really, you’re doing such a good job. I’m really glad you agreed to help us out.” 

Meleia looked up at her nervously. “Really?” 

“Really,” Portia said firmly. 

“But what if I mess everything up?” Meleia asked. Her worries just poured out of her. “What if we’re caught, and Damian ends up in even _ worse _ trouble, and Julian never comes back and...” 

“Then we’ll deal with it,” said Portia, cutting her off. “I know how crazy and risky it is. But you’re giving us a real chance. That’s all we could ask for.” 

Meleia couldn’t manage a reply to that. Her gaze fell down to her hands, still clinging onto one of the pillows. 

“Besides,” Portia added with a grin, “if you get arrested, I will totally break you out.” 

Meleia snorted. “Thanks?” 

“Any time,” said Portia brightly. “Now. Aren’t you hungry? You should eat something before you go down and meet the Majestro. He’s supposed to come today.” 

“Oh,” Meleia mumbled. “Right.” 

“We’ve got plenty of time to get you ready,” Portia assured her. “Don’t worry. Milady’s even offered to let you use the best baths! Well, almost the best baths. Her private ones are the best, and after that I think Lucio’s got the fanciest ones, but Milady’s having some of the others prepare the baths that we only save for super special guests!” 

“Like the Majestro?” said Meleia. She was worried she might be stealing his bath. 

“Or visiting princesses on diplomatic missions,” said Portia with a wink. 

Heat crept up into Meleia’s cheeks. 

“So what do you say?” Portia gestured grandly to the breakfast tray. “Ready to eat?” 

Meleia found herself all but gaping at the tray again. “There’s... there’s _ way _ too much for me.” 

Portia laughed. “Pretty typical breakfast for royalty. But it _ does _ look like a lot, doesn’t it?” 

Meleia awkwardly scooted the little table closer to them. She tried to tilt it a little towards Portia as well. 

“Want some?” Meleia asked. 

“Oh, Meleia, that’s so sweet,” said Portia. “But I really shouldn’t. I’m supposed to be making sure all our very important guests are settled in...” 

Meleia just gave Portia a pointed look. Portia laughed. And she instantly settled in and grabbed some apple slices. 

“Did Ilya tell you the story about the rabbits and the opera?” said Portia. 

Meleia laughed. “No. He did not.” 

“Ooooh, that’s a good one,” Portia snickered. “But _ my _ version is even better.” 

They shared stories just as evenly as they split breakfast. Between the two girls and Forge, they polished it all off fairly quickly. When Meleia was escorted to the bathing room, she was feeling considerably better about the whole thing. 

And when she actually went inside, she felt like she were stepping into a dream all over again. 

It was less of a bath and more of a man-made lake. The tub-- if she could even call it that, considering it was nearly the size of the room-- was sunk completely into the floor. A beautiful chandelier cast an elegant glow over the water. She could feel the warmth of that water from where she stood. What little floorspace there was really did look like marble. And there were shelves upon shelves of bottles and jars that must have been soaps or something, though Meleia didn’t recognize them, but they all looked rather exotic. 

And there was a _ fountain. _ In the _ bathroom. _Meleia had no idea why it was there, or how that was even possible. But, gods, it was amazing. 

Even Forge loved it. He let out a gleeful yip and ran a full length around the tiled floor, occasionally dipping a paw in the water. His tail wagged even harder every time he got his paws wet. Meleia watched his antics for a moment before trying to take in the scope of the room again. 

“I... I can really use _ this? _” Meleia gasped. 

Portia chuckled. “Of course. Only the best for our brave, heroic princess.” 

Meleia was certain that the heat creeping into her face once again had nothing to do with the steam wafting off the water. She certainly didn’t feel brave or heroic at the moment. Nor did she think she deserved treatment like this. 

“Feel free to use any of the bath salts or oils you like,” said Portia. She set aside a small pile of towels and an elegant robe. “Some of the salts come from Nevivon, funny enough. Those are all on the second shelf, if you want to really smell authentic.” She pulled a face, wrinkling her nose. “Ew, no. That came out totally wrong. I don’t know why _ anyone _ would want to smell like Nevivon...”

Meleia managed a weak sort of laugh. Somehow, this was even more overwhelming than breakfast.

“I’ll be back in about half an hour, so try to finish up before then, okay?” Portia went on. “Then we’ll see how amazing your hair looks when I’ve gotten all those tangles out of it. And _ trust _ me, I know how hard untangling curls can be.” 

She tilted her head, making her own curls bob as proof. 

Meleia’s actually managed a genuine smile. “Thanks, Portia.” 

Portia blinked. “For what?” 

“For everything,” said Meleia.

“No problem,” said Portia with a laugh. “It’s the least we could do. Now you’d better get in there before your little friend decides to keep the bath for himself.” 

Sure enough, Forge was perched right at the edge of the bath. He was staring intently at the water. Meleia couldn’t tell if he were about to leap in for the fun of it or if he wanted to pick a fight with his reflection. Either way, she was quick to scoop him up and deposit him a safer distance away before sliding into the water herself. 

It was absolute bliss. She felt like every single worry and every bit of trouble were being washed away. 

She let out a long, low sigh and sank so deep into the water that she was nearly floating on her back. Forge padded up to her and curiously nosed her hair. Meleia laughed. 

“Oh, Forge,” she giggled. “Isn’t this wonderful? I could stay in here forever.” 

She couldn’t, of course. And she knew she couldn’t. If Julian found... no. _ When _ Julian found Damian, then everything would go back to normal. She would return to the shop, and eventually repay Volta’s debt. Then she would earn enough to head out on her own. To try to make her dreams come true. 

And Damian would marry the Majestro. Who he very clearly didn’t want to marry. 

Meleia wondered idly what the Majestro might be like. His Ambassador was nice. He’d told her so many amazing stories over dinner. The Ambassador had traveled so much, had seen so many incredible things. And he’d been trusted with taking care of the Majestro’s pet snake. Meleia was rather more excited to meet said royal pet than she was to meet the Majestro. After hearing so much about the snake, little Faust, Meleia felt like she’d already gotten to know her. 

She still didn’t know if she could really keep the Majestro interested enough in trade routes and whatnot to keep him at the palace. She still didn’t know if she would be able to buy Julian enough time, or what would happen when Damian returned. 

But she was very aware that none of this could last forever. That the moments she spent with the Majestro, or even his Ambassador, would vanish before too long. 

Almost absently, Meleia started to sing to herself. She felt better almost instantly. The bath had excellent acoustics. And it helped that she had subconsciously chosen one of her favorite songs. 

A song of freedom. A song of hope. A song that said you could always start over, you could always move forward, no matter what. 

Right then, moving forward seemed the only thing she could do. 

At least she had Julian and Portia and even Queen Nadia on her side. And Forge, of course. They all believed in her. She just had to make sure she didn’t let them down. 

Things were a mess right now, despite how glorious it was to just be in the palace, reveling in the best bath of her entire life. There were still a hundred questions that needed answers, and a thousand problems that needed to be solved. 

As she sang about the hope that carried one into the future, Meleia made a silent vow to herself. She’d already made the vow countless times, but it felt more real, somehow. More true. 

She would do whatever it took to make things right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is where the song "Cat's Meow" happens in the movie, so I tried to capture the feel without actually using that song. Hope it all worked out!


	25. The Moment for Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Asra makes some important choices.

“So that’s it?” Muriel asked, his eyes narrow. “You’re just going to tell them?” 

Asra shrugged, taking off his plumed hat. “What else should I do?” 

Muriel huffed. But he didn’t protest further. 

“The Queen’s very wise,” Asra went on. “And she seems... reasonable. She’ll understand. Hopefully.” 

“Hopefully?” Muriel repeated doubtfully. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Asra insisted. “Besides, she has enough on her plate without worrying about impressing the Majestro.”

“Like the prince,” said Muriel pointedly. 

Asra sighed. “Right. Like the prince.” 

Asra didn’t really know what more to say about that. Of course he was worried about the prince. Asra had really only gotten a chance to talk to Damian that one dinner before he vanished, but he seemed rather nice. Asra would have liked the opportunity to get to know Damian a little better before everything was settled. 

But there were a few other things on his mind, too. And most of them centered around the Princess of Nevivon. 

“You aren’t actually going to do these meetings without him, are you?” Muriel asked. 

Asra sighed again. “I don’t think the Queen will let me do otherwise. She’s put her kingdom over her own needs... and even the needs of her family.” 

His expression turned darker at that. It seemed like a shadow had fallen over the room at just the thought. He could tell Nadia cared about Damian, as any mother would care for her child. As any mother _ should _ care for her child. But something about the way she was leaving the search for the prince in the hands of that Count did _ not _sit well with him. At all. 

Probably because he didn’t trust the Count anywhere near as far as he could throw him.

“Do... do you think Inanna could track the Prince?” Asra asked. 

The thought had only just occurred to him. He probably should have come up with the idea before, but he’d had a lot on his mind. And he had always been a bit overwhelmed when the attention was on him. He’d tried to avoid that by playing the Ambassador, but any visitor to a palace would require _ some _ fussing over... 

Besides, Inanna was still out somewhere in the gardens. It was incredible that the Palace already trusted the pair of them enough to let a wolf wander around the grounds. Granted, Asra was fully aware that Inanna wasn’t going to get into any trouble. But Queen Nadia and the others would have no way of knowing that. 

Muriel shook his head. “Don’t know. Maybe. Queen wouldn’t like it if I asked.” 

“I don’t think she’d mind,” said Asra, shooting his friend a quick, worried look. 

Muriel only shook his head again. Which led to yet another sigh from Asra. 

“I want to help them all as much as I can,” said Asra. “But I can’t do anything if they won’t let me. All they want from the Majestro are meetings and discussions and signed documents.” 

His tone had turned utterly bitter. He forced himself to take a deep breath and tried to find some way to keep himself distracted. So he turned his attention to finally letting Faust uncurl herself from his sash. He could almost feel her relief as she stretched eagerly across his shoulders. She booped her nose against his cheek, making Asra laugh. 

Muriel frowned. His eyes narrowed even further. 

“Asra,” Muriel said sternly. 

“Hmm?” Asra mumbled. 

He was hardly paying attention. He was too busy giving Faust some well-deserved chin scritches.

“You’re distracted,” said Muriel. “Avoiding the problem.” 

Asra shrugged again. “There’s a lot to think about.” 

“Like the girl.” 

Muriel almost sounded casual. As casual as he could sound, at any rate. But Asra heard the note of accusation in his voice. 

“Maybe,” said Asra. 

“Asra...” 

“It’s _ her, _ Muriel.” The words burst out of Asra. He couldn’t hold back an almost childlike grin. “I _ know _ it is. We... we finally found her.” 

Muriel shook his head. “We haven’t. Not possible.” 

“You saw her,” Asra pressed. “She looks exactly like her.” 

“You haven’t seen her in years,” said Muriel. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Asra’s smile only widened. He pictured her, the Princess, and his heart felt warm. A way it hadn’t felt in a long time. “I’d know her anywhere.” 

Muriel shook his head again. “Asra, she’s gone. She’s dead.” 

Normally, talking about things like that would have made Asra both desperate and miserable. And it would have made him want to get out of that conversation as quickly as possible. Particularly since it was a conversation they’d had several times before. Some variation of it had happened every time Asra visited a new city, or a new kingdom. That it was impossible, that he would never find her, that if he kept on searching he would never find what he was _ really _ looking for... which Muriel was convinced was simply a partner. Someone to share his life with. Someone who wouldn’t treat him like some diety just because he was born into a royal family. 

Of course, Asra had been searching for all of those things. And he’d supposed, if he never found what-- or _ who _ \-- he was _ really _ looking for, he would have had to move on. He would have found someone different. 

But she was here. In the Vesuvian palace. And for the first time in years, the world was starting to look bright again. 

“She’s alive, Muriel,” Asra insisted. “I _ know _ she is. And she’s right in front of us. Maybe she’s even been in Nevivon the whole time. I never did get around to visiting there...” 

“And if it’s not her?” Muriel pressed. “If the person you knew really is gone?” 

“Then now’s the time to find out, isn’t it?” said Asra. 

“Asra...” Muriel trailed off. He seemed to battle with himself for a while. Then he made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a grumble. 

“What’s wrong?” Asra asked at once. He stopped playing with Faust and looked up at his friend with concern. 

“I don’t want you to go through this again,” Muriel mumbled. “I can’t watch it.” 

Asra was silent for a long while. Faust’s tongue flicked out curiously. She booped his cheek again, probably trying to comfort him. When that didn’t work, she slithered across Asra’s shoulders and gave him a friendly squeeze. It was her version of a hug. 

That didn’t do much to help, either. 

“Muriel, I’ll be fine,” Asra said slowly. “Even if she isn’t the girl I met back then, there’s no harm in getting to know her. Is there?” 

Muriel said nothing. But his shoulders hunched. He looked even more guarded than usual. 

“I’m still going to figure out all the little details about joining Zadith and Vesuvia,” Asra assured him. “And if the Queen _ is _ upset about... well, about the Ambassador... then I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to her.” 

“What about the Prince?” Muriel asked gruffly. 

Asra’s face fell. “I told you, I can’t really help find him if the Queen doesn’t want me to. Best thing I can do at the moment is make sure we get everything ready for when he comes back so we can--”

“That’s not what I meant,” Muriel cut him off. 

Asra absently brushed a finger over Faust’s scales. Faust wiggled happily, making her look even more like a noodle than usual. 

“I know,” said Asra at length. 

“Why did you even want to meet him?” Muriel huffed. “If you’re set on _ her... _” 

Asra had to bite back another sigh. This wasn’t the first time that particular question had popped up in conversation, either. 

“I told you,” said Asra sadly. “Neither of us had any idea where she was, or what happened to her. _ No one _ did. No one even knew if she was still a “she.” For all we know, she _ could _ have become the Prince of Vesuvia. Or she could have found work in the Vesuvian palace.” 

Muriel grumbled again. “Or maybe she wasn’t in Vesuvia at all.” 

“Very possible,” Asra agreed. “But we never would have known if we didn’t see for ourselves.” 

“And you’re _ sure _ this princess is her?” said Muriel. 

“Yes,” said Asra.

He hadn’t even hesitated for an instant. 

He knew it didn’t make any sense. He knew there was no possible way he could be completely sure. He hadn’t seen that girl-- _ his _ Meleia-- in nearly ten years. Back when they were both little more than kids. And even when they had first met, he hadn’t known her for all that long. Just a few wonderful, magical weeks. But, gods, he could remember the day they met like it had just happened moments ago. How she’d all but appeared at the ball his parents had thrown. How they had both decided to hide away from the crowds at exactly the same moment. How they’d chosen the same hiding spot. How she’d tried to duck away, to give him a little space, only for Asra to apologize at almost the same instant. The way she’d tried to hide her laugh when he awkwardly tried to excuse himself. How she’d assured him that, no, it was fine, they could stay away from the chaos of a royal ball together. 

How she hadn’t known he was the heir to Zadith’s throne. 

How she hadn’t cared when she found out. 

And all the moments after that. How she’d encouraged his fondness for making little crafts. How he’d tried to get better at it, to make things just for her, and always wound up making too many trinkets. How her smile seemed to make the whole world light up. How he’d do anything just to make her laugh. 

How he could talk to her about everything. About how difficult it was to be the heir. About how all he wanted to do was explore, to learn all about new places and new cultures and _ everything _ he could. And not just from books: from first-hand experience. 

And how she could talk to him. About her own worries. About how she never felt like she could live up to her family’s expectations. About how she was always worried she was doing something wrong. About how she just wanted to run away, or how dearly she wished life were like her favorite books. 

They talked about books a lot, back then. Asra wondered idly if she still liked to read. If they would ever have conversations like that again. 

Those wonderful, stolen moments hadn’t lasted long. She’d come for the ball. And stayed for about two weeks after that. Asra didn’t remember why; it hardly seemed to matter. Then she’d had to return home... wherever her home was. All Asra knew was that it was a different kingdom, somewhere across the sea from Zadith. 

He’d heard that her ship had gone down. And that was all. No one had seen or heard of any sign of her. 

Everyone thought she’d died. 

But Asra was convinced that she was still out there. Somewhere. 

Maybe even right here. 

Muriel sighed. “You’re doing it again.” 

Asra blinked. “Doing what?” 

“Thinking,” Muriel grumbled. 

Asra laughed. “I’m _ always _ thinking.” 

“About her,” said Muriel stiffly. 

Asra’s smile vanished. “Yes. I was. I... I miss her, Muriel. At least, I did. For so long.” 

Muriel grumbled again. He knew full well how Asra felt. 

“If there’s even the slightest chance that it might really be her...” Asra’s voice choked for a minute, like something were caught in his throat. He swallowed nervously before going on. “I have to take that chance.” 

Muriel was silent for a long moment. Long enough for Faust to discover the snake treats that Asra had hidden away in a shirt pocket. 

“So you’re going back on your promise?” Muriel asked at last.

Once again, Asra didn’t even need to think about it before he answered. 

“Of course not. I told Queen Nadia I would do everything in my power to help her save her kingdom. And nothing is going to get in the way of keeping my promise. Not even the Princess.” 

Muriel didn’t look convinced. But he nodded anyway. 

Asra smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Muriel.” 

“For what?” Muriel grumbled. 

“For worrying about me,” said Asra. “And for giving me a chance.” 

Muriel remained silent. But his expression softened just a little. Just enough for Asra to tell that he might have been feeling the _ slightest _ bit better about all this. Or, at least, that he was a little more willing to let Asra see his little scheme through. 

Asra had been keeping secrets long enough. It was time to start telling the truth. 

“Here,” Asra said abruptly, unwinding Faust from his shoulders and dropping her on Muriel’s lap. “Hold Faust.” 

Faust seemed very happy to have a new, much larger pair of shoulders to rest on. Muriel looked utterly taken aback. 

“What are you...?” 

“I have to get changed, don’t I?” Asra said lightly. He went over to his chest of clothes. Everything was an utter mess; he hadn’t even bothered to put any of his clothing in the wardrobe that had been so graciously provided for his guest room. 

“For what?” Muriel blurted out. 

“If I’m going to tell everyone the truth, I should at least _ look _ like the Majestro,” said Asra. 

He tossed several outfits out of the chest, letting them plop onto the ground wherever they happened to land. A fancy jacket landed directly on Muriel’s arm, making Faust flinch back in surprise. Of course, she immediately went to investigate this strange new piece of fabric. And, since it smelled like Asra, she snuggled under it just as quickly. 

“Really?” said Muriel, surprised. “You’re telling them now?” 

“Mm-hmm,” Asra mumbled, now shoulders-deep into the clothing chest. 

“Right now?” Muriel pressed. 

“Why not?” said Asra. He pulled out a silvery tunic and held it up to the light. “What do you think?” he asked Muriel. “Too much?” 

Muriel shook his head, though his utterly shocked expression had nothing to do with the outfit Asra had found. 

“Are you sure?” Muriel blurted out. 

Asra glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “About what?”

“About... telling them?” Muriel asked. “Just like that? Without any... anything?” 

Asra almost laughed. He had no idea what Muriel meant by _ anything._

“I think it’s about time,” said Asra. 

“And you’re sure this is... wise?” Muriel grumbled. 

Suddenly, Asra didn’t feel much like laughing anymore. 

“No,” he admitted. “Not at all. But it _ is _ the right thing to do.” 

With that, he found a much more regal-looking outfit and got changed as quickly as he could. He had to trade his Ambassador hat for his royal crown, which was really a shame. He would miss that hat, and he’d never exactly been fond of that crown. Then he let Faust twine herself around his arm again, knowing she would hate to miss a chance to explore the castle, and strode purposefully out into the halls. 

He was going to go straight to the throne room and try to talk to Queen Nadia. But the instant he turned the corner that may have led to the main hall-- honestly, he wasn’t quite sure at this point-- he was completely distracted by a wonderful sound. 

Someone was singing. The voice was glorious. And somehow familiar. 

Hardly even aware of moving, Asra followed the sound. That song... it was familiar, too. He hadn’t heard it in years, but it had always been one of _ her _ favorites. She hadn’t sung much, back then. She hadn’t had the opportunity or reason to. But sometimes she would sing for him. 

And more often than not... it was this exact same song. 

A song of hope. Of chasing dreams. A song that declared anyone could be whoever they wanted to be... no. Who they were _ meant _ to be. 

The song led him to a rather large door. He nearly knocked, assuming it might be the Princess’s guest room. But he stopped short when he caught a whiff of steam. It smelled rather like the ocean in there. Just the right mix of salt and water. 

Ah. He’d wandered towards the bath. 

He quickly backpedaled, not wanting to look as though he’d been doing anything untoward. But though he stood several feet away from the door, he couldn’t quite bring himself to leave just yet. He lingered there for a moment, listening to her sing. 

Gods, what a lovely voice. And what a beautiful message to her song. 

His heart felt fuller than it had in years. 

After a moment, he spotted Portia headed down the opposite corridor. Probably on some errand for the Queen. Asra hurried to catch up to her. 

“Excuse me, Portia, do you have a moment?” he called. 

Portia instantly turned around, jumping to attention. She smiled when she caught a glimpse of Asra, only to frown in confusion at his new clothes. Her eyes lingered on his crown. Her confusion grew to concern when she saw the snake on his shoulders. 

“Ambassador,” she said slowly, as though she didn’t quite believe it. “Is that...?” 

She eyed Faust again. Faust flicked her tongue at Portia almost like a hello. Portia blinked rapidly for a moment before turning her focus directly to Asra. 

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “Was there something I could do for you?” 

“Is Queen Nadia busy at the moment?” Asra asked. “There’s something I need to tell her.” 

He needed to tell Portia, too. And the Princess. And probably everyone else in the palace. But it was only right that he told the Queen first. She’d been the most wronged by all this. 

“It must be important,” said Portia, eyeing his outfit once again. “This way.” 

She brusquely turned around and led the way down yet another hall. Asra was silently thankful that he had found Portia. It was much better for her to announce him than for him to wander the castle and hope he ran into the Queen. 

He knew he had a lot to explain. A lot still left to do. But he had the feeling that everything would work out. 

At least, he had to hope it would.


	26. Locked In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Damian is trapped. Again.

Damian could never be sure exactly how long he stood there, slumped against the locked door. He’d tried everything he could think of to get that door open. Nothing had worked. Now all he could do was try to pull himself together. 

That wasn’t working out all that well, either. 

It seemed that everything that could possibly be going wrong _ was. _ He was supposed to be talking to the Majestro and finalizing the details of Zadith and Vesuvia’s partnership. And then they were supposed to marry to seal the deal. It should have been simple. Utterly life-changing and not at all what he wanted, but _ simple._

And now he was trapped. Held captive for the _ second _ time. Just when he was needed most, there was absolutely nothing he could do. 

It wasn’t just about his own safety anymore. Or Vesuvia’s coffers. There was a threat against the Queen. They weren’t just trying to ensure that Vesuvia and Zadith never joined, they were trying to overthrow Vesuvia completely. And apparently this coup had gotten as far as a shop at the edge of the city. Valerius, whom the palace had trusted enough to buy clothes from time and time again, had been harboring a hatred for the Queen strong enough to be an accomplice in kidnapping, treason, and who knew _ what _ else. 

Then there were the others. Vulgora. Vlastomil. They had been working towards the same goal as Valerius. They all wanted the Queen replaced by... someone else. 

After all this, Damian still had no idea who was behind it. Had no clue who their mysterious boss might be. And he had no way to find out. No resources. Just another locked door and another too-small room. 

Damian forced back the tears that threatened to spill over. He had to stay strong. And he _ had _ to find a way out of this. There were too many people counting on him. Julian. Meleia. Nadia. Probably everyone in the Palace. Not to mention the entire kingdom. 

But Damian couldn’t do anything for them. Not now. Not while he was trapped all over again. 

At last, Damian took a deep, shuddering breath. He blinked away the tears that he’d hadn’t managed to hold at bay. He stood tall, straightening his shoulders. And he resolutely turned his back on the locked door, facing the room he had been trapped in. 

He had intended to do a full sweep of the room, to try to find even the smallest crack that might have led to a chance at escape. But the first thing he saw was Volta. 

Damian’s heart wrenched again. The poor seamstress looked as nervous as a cornered mouse. She anxiously nibbled at her nails, her eyes darting every which way. It was almost like she didn’t dare look at him. 

“I’m sorry.” said Damian. 

He’d felt compelled to say that, even though he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. Volta just looked so upset. He wondered absently if that was where Meleia had gotten her own constant “sorry’s” from.

“Oh!” Volta’s hands quickly dropped away from her face. “Oh, no, dear sir, you have no reason to say sorry!” 

“You seemed upset,” said Damian. “Valerius was so cruel to you...” 

“No, no!” Volta shook her head empathically. “Valerius is always very loud to me. But he was cruel to _ you! _ We are always respectful to guests! He should not be treating the Prince this way!” 

For a moment, her nerves were replaced by something close to fury. The moment left just as quickly as it had come. Her hands, which had been clenched into fists not even a second ago, went right back to nervously wringing. 

“You... you _ are _ the Prince, yes?” Volta asked, voice shaking. 

Damian bit back a sigh. “Yes. I am. Doesn’t do me much good at the moment, though, does it?” 

“But-- but the Prince cannot stay here!” Volta whimpered. “There are very, very important things you must be doing!” 

“There are,” Damian agreed with a nod. He wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but she wasn’t wrong. 

“It is so, so sad,” said Volta, truly sounding miserable. “Now you are stuck! And Volta cannot help.” 

Damain’s already low spirits managed to plummet even lower. 

“There’s no other way out?” Damian asked. 

Volta shook her head. 

Damian was on the verge of absolute panic. _ No other way out. _No way to escape. But he _ had _ to. He _ needed _ to be out there. There must have been _ something _ he could do. 

But he was cold, and tired, and hungrier than ever, with no hope of warmth or rest or food coming any time soon. He couldn’t think straight. He wanted to dive for the door again, even though he knew that wouldn’t work. 

He knew it wasn’t princely. He knew he was supposed to stay strong, to never let anyone see how difficult being royal was. But he couldn’t hold it in anymore. 

He buried his face in his hands and let out a wordless cry of sheer, desperate frustration. 

“No, no, _ no! _ ” he groaned. “This can’t be it! We can’t be _ stuck _ here! There has to be _ something! _” 

“Oh, I am very, _ very _ sorry...” Volta moaned. “The only door out is in front. There is an upstairs, yes, but only one small room for me and Meleia, and there is no other way down from there.” 

“He makes you both stay in one tiny room?” Damian blurted out. He’d heard of people living above their shops, of course, but this seemed out of hand. 

Volta tilted her head, like a confused animal. “Yes. Of course.” 

“Where do the others sleep?” Damian asked. 

Volta blinked up at him, looking utterly lost. “Others?” 

“The other people who work here,” said Damian, almost as lost. 

It took Volta a moment to answer. “Valerius has a room all his own. I have never, ever seen it. It is always locked up tight. We are not supposed to see.” 

Damian was about to press the issue again, thinking Volta had just misunderstood, when a horrible thought occurred to him. 

“You mean you and Meleia are the only two seamstresses here?” Damian asked. 

Shakily, Volta nodded. 

Damian was absolutely appalled. 

“Valerius makes you do _ everything _?” he cried. “All those dresses and coats and... that’s all just you two?” 

Another trembling nod.

Fury at this injustice, this horrible cruelty, momentarily burned so fiercely that all of Damian’s other concerns were cast aside. 

“That should _ never _ happen,” Damian spat. “And I promise you, I will _ not _ let it happen anymore. As soon as I get out of here, Valerius will have a _ lot _ to answer for.” 

“Oh, oh, but how will you get out?” Volta moaned. “The door is locked, and the window is so small... and also over the river!” 

Damian blinked, surprised. “We’re right next to the river?” 

Volta nodded so frantically her hair bounced around. “Yes, yes! No way for humans to get out!” 

“This is ridiculous. Who puts a dress shop right next to a...?” Damian’s second furious rant of the day trailed off as he fully registered what Volta had said. “Wait. No way for _ humans _to escape?” 

Volta bit her lip nervously. But she nodded again.

“So something that isn’t human might have a chance?” said Damian. 

“Meleia’s friend can,” said Volta slowly. 

“Her friend?” Damian repeated. 

“She has a fox friend,” Volta explained. “He is very, very cute!”

“Of course,” Damian murmured. “Forge.” 

“You have met Forge!” Volta cried almost gleefully. “Forge is sweet. And he is always finding a way to sneak out and go for walks. Sometimes he is getting into mischief and coming back with mud on his paws.” 

Damian’s hand crept towards the still-quivering lump in his pocket that was his own animal friend. 

“Do you think a bat could find a way out?” he asked slowly. 

“Um...” Volta nibbled at her nails again. “Maybe? There have never been bats inside, so I am not sure, but...” 

Damian managed a shadow of a smile. “There’s a bat inside right now.” He turned his focus back to his pocket. “It’s okay, Oswald. You can come out, now. It’s safe, I promise.” 

It still took a while for Oswald to poke his head out. His ears came first, sort of unfurling as he nosed his way out of Damian’s pocket. 

Volta gasped in sheer glee. “Oh, he is so, so cute!” 

“He is,” Damian agreed, no little pride in his voice. “And he’s the smartest bat I’ve ever met. If Forge can find a way out, I’m sure Oswald can.” 

“Oh, yes, he must be able to!” Volta agreed. “But how is he to find help?” 

Damian had already started thinking about that. 

“You must have tags of some kind,” said Damian. “Something that tells your customers where the clothes came from.” 

“Yes, yes!” Volta cried. 

She scrambled off of her work stool and scurried to one of the shelves. She dashed straight to an enormous basket and heaved it off the shelf. It was clearly too much for her to handle. Damian lurched forward, ready to help, but he couldn’t get there fast enough. Volta let out a little yelp as the basket slipped out of her hands. She was just barely able to lurch away before it dropped directly onto her foot. It slammed into the floor with a heavy thud. 

Before Damian could even begin to ask if she were alright, Volta went right back over to the basket and grabbed a handful of what looked almost like ribbons. Grinning, she shoved them into Damian’s hands. 

“What...?” Damian started to ask, but his question was quickly answered. They weren’t ribbons at all. They were the tags he’d been looking for. Each one had been carefully inked with both the same symbol on the shop’s sign and the words _ Made Exclusively by Lord Valerius _. 

That lie was enough to set Damian’s blood boiling again. But he couldn’t worry about that now. He shoved his hatred down and focused on the task at hand again. 

“Thank you, Volta. This is perfect,” said Damian, his tone as heartfelt as he could make it.

Volta beamed. She looked adorably proud of herself. 

Damian managed a shadow of a smile back before holding the tag up to Oswald, comparing sizes. 

“Too small to tie around you,” Damian mused aloud. “And I don’t want to make you carry it all the way to the palace. It’s a long trip.” 

Oswald stared at the tag with something close to trepidation. 

“I know,” said Damian. “It’s going to be tricky, but I know you can handle it.” 

That seemed to make Oswald feel a little bit better. At least he didn’t look like he was ready to dive right back into Damian’s pocket anymore. 

Damian turned right back to Volta. “Could you possibly spare a ribbon?” 

“Yes, yes, of course!” Volta instantly lept into action, going back to the shelves. “What color?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” said Damian. “Just something long.” 

Volta produced a bright red ribbon from a large pile that seemed to be made of nothing but bright red ribbons. It was so long that it nearly dangled to the floor when she held it out to him. 

“Not that long,” said Damian quickly. 

He was worried that Volta would be disappointed, but she simply nodded in understanding. The next ribbon she found, a silvery one this time, was just the right size. 

“Perfect,” said Damian. He snatched up the ribbon and started tying it around Oswald’s neck. “Now all we need is some way to make sure the tag stays on the ribbon. And it would probably be a good idea to find some way to make absolutely sure they know the message is from me.” 

“Oh!” Volta cried. She was so eager to share her idea that she was practically bouncing. “Does the prince have a royal ring? Or a royal badge?” 

Damian shook his head. “No. I don’t carry anything with the royal insignia with me. Not unless I’m going somewhere formal, or attending a political... meeting...” 

He trailed off. He didn’t have anything showing his royalty, but he _ did _ have something that he knew the Queen would recognize. 

Without another word, he took the brooch the Majestro had gotten for him out of his pocket. 

Maybe it would turn out lucky after all.

“Oooh....” Volta’s eyes were practically sparkling as she looked at the brooch. “So, so pretty! Wherever did you get such a wonderful thing?” 

“It was a gift,” said Damian. He had to clear his throat before he went on. “It’s one of a kind. If anyone at the palace sees it...” 

“They will know it belongs to the Prince!” Volta cried excitedly. “And they will know the Prince is in trouble!” 

“Exactly,” Damian agreed. 

He gently tied the ribbon around Oswald’s neck and used the brooch to pin the tag right in the center. In the end, it almost made Oswald look like he were wearing a medal. 

“You alright?” Damian asked him. “Not too heavy?” 

Oswald experimentally flapped his wings. He took to the air easily enough. He did a test flap around the little room. He tilted a bit, but quickly straightened out. He wasn’t even halfway through his loop before he’d completely mastered flying with his burden. 

The sight actually made Damian smile. He was beaming with pride. 

“Oswald, you’re amazing,” said Damian. 

Oswald landed back on the sewing table. The landing was a bit rough, but Oswald looked unmistakably happy. Damian gave him an affectionate pat. 

“Your little friend is very wonderful!” Volta cried. “But! But will he be able to reach the palace? It is very far away.” 

“He can make it,” said Damian firmly. “Right, Oswald?” 

Oswald squeaked. He looked nervous all over again. Damian didn’t want to force Oswald to do anything he didn’t want to do. But they didn’t have much of a choice. 

Still...

He crouched down near the table, meeting Oswald at eye level. 

“I know it’s going to be rough,” said Damian quietly. “But if anyone can handle it, I know it’s you.” 

Oswald tilted his head a bit. But his ears looked slightly more perky than before. 

“You’ll be able to find food on your own, right?” Damian asked. “I know it’s been a while since you’ve had anything, and I hate to think of you flying on an empty stomach.” 

Oswald peeped again. Damian couldn’t be sure, but he thought the bat looked a little more downcast than before. 

Volta gasped. “You have not had any snacks?” 

Damian looked up at her, confused again. “Not for a while, no.” 

For a moment, Volta looked absolutely horrified. As though going without food for a bit was somehow worse than anything else she had already gone through. Damian had never gone hungry before, and his own stomach felt like it was threatening to revolt, but he would gladly have gone through it again if it meant that no one had to do endless hours of work in a tiny, dark room with the threat of a vindictive boss looming over their shoulder. 

Then Volta grinned. Her smile was rather adorable. 

“I can fix this!” she declared. “Come, come, this way!” 

With that cryptic remark, she scurried up the little stairwell. Damian was very hesitant to follow. For one, he didn’t want to intrude on Volta and Meleia’s private chambers, whatever they might be like. For another, he did _ not _ want to know what might happen if he even peeked into Valerius’ room. 

But he didn’t really see much choice. So he scooped up Oswald and followed Volta upstairs. 

Volta and Meleia’s room, if he could call it that, was smaller than Damian had imagined. The palace had storage rooms that were bigger than this. And no one deserved to sleep on such tiny, messy old cots. Not even prisoners. 

Damian’s stomach lurched, and it had nothing to do with his own hunger. 

Meleia had been treated worse than a prisoner. And yet she’d still managed to smile. To laugh with him. She’d treated it all like it was hardly any trouble. She’d even tried to support him when he told her about his impending marriage. 

He had to get her out of this. He had to get them _ both _out of this.

Volta was busily rummaging under one of the cots, presumably her own. After a moment, she emerged triumphantly with a small handful of figs. 

“Now Meleia is not here, she cannot share her snacks,” Volta said conspiratorially. “So I am learning to keep some snacks a secret! I have saved them for when I am very hungry, but I will share with you! Like Meleia shared with me!” 

Damian stared at the figs for a long moment. They were small, and slightly squished, but they still looked far better than anything he’d been tossed back at the cabin. His stomach didn’t so much growl as absolutely roar. 

But he shook his head. “We can’t possibly accept these.” 

“Oh, you must!” Volta pressed. “I would feel very, very sad if the Prince was too hungry!” 

She was looking at him so earnestly. He couldn’t possibly refuse. 

Damian took two figs, one for himself and one for Oswald. He gave his bat the bigger one. He knew Oswald had a long journey ahead of him, and Damian doubted that Valerius planned on letting him starve. He was apparently very important to the boss’ plan... whatever that plan might be. 

“Thank you,” said Damian earnestly. “Since we’re sharing, you can hold on to the rest.” 

“You are very sure?” Volta asked. 

“Absolutely,” Damian nodded. 

Volta looked a bit relieved when she tucked the figs back in their hiding place. 

Damian watched sadly as he let Oswald ferociously nibble his fruit. He’d never truly realized how hard things were for his own people. He’d known they were rough, of course, but _ this... _ he could only hope that people like Valerius weren’t all that common. 

Volta led him back down the staircase and straight to the only window in the workroom. Oswald, his little nose now covered in fig juice, stared at it nervously. 

“Alright, buddy,” said Damian as bravely as he could. “Time for you to really shine. I need you to go find help. Julian, Nadia... anyone we know we can trust.” 

He had no idea how much Oswald understood. A part of him doubted Oswald understood much at all. But at this point he couldn’t help but talk to Oswald like a person. 

Whether or not Oswald understood, he puffed up a bit. And he flew out the window without any hesitation. 

Oswald’s bravado did nothing to stop Damian from worrying. And he kept on worrying as he watched his friend disappear into the night. 

Damian let himself wallow in his fears for a moment longer. Then he shoved them all aside. He didn’t like the idea of just sitting around waiting to see if anyone showed up. 

“Now.” He turned to Volta. “Let’s get started on that workload of yours.” 

Volta gasped. “No, no, you must not! I can do it, I promise!” 

“I’m sure you can,” Damian said gently. “But you shouldn’t have to. Besides... I don’t exactly have anything better to do.” 

“You are the Prince!” Volta protested. “The Prince should be resting!” 

“Why?” said Damian. “Just because I’m the Prince doesn’t mean I don’t know how to work hard.” 

Volta started wringing her hands again. “But... but...” 

“Valerius gave you an impossible amount of work,” said Damian, a hint of fury creeping back into his tone. “I can’t sit idly by and let you do it all yourself.” 

Volta spluttered, her hands wringing even faster and more agitatedly than before. Damian ignored her half-formed protests, pulled up what was probably Meleia’s workbench, and sat by a pile of fabric. He pulled on the edges of his nearly-destroyed alchemy gloves, getting them into place as best as he could. And he picked up a needle and thread. 

“Just tell me what to do.” 

Damian’s tone was almost commanding. Volta gaped at him, her good eye wide as a dinner plate. She tried to protest again. But Damian just stared resolutely back at her. He wasn’t going to give an inch. 

At last, Volta let out one last, nervous moan. Then she settled down on her own stool. 

“Has... has the Prince ever sewn before?” she asked nervously. 

“No,” Damian admitted. “But I’m sure I can learn.” 

Volta didn’t exactly look convinced. But Damian wasn’t about to back down. 

“Let me help,” he insisted. “You helped me out, after all. I have to return the favor somehow.” 

“W-well...” Volta stuttered. “If you are very, very sure...” 

Damian nodded again. “I’m sure. Let’s get to work.” 

He knew he would never be able to make clothes the way Meleia did. Not without years of practice. But he had to pitch in _ somehow. _ He owed it to Volta. And if Meleia truly was at the palace, she was probably trying to help _ him. _ If she’d gotten in trouble for his sake, and he hadn’t done anything in return, he would never forgive himself. 

He would get out of this mess eventually. Oswald had never let him down. In the meantime, he would do the best that he could to make life a little easier for his subjects. For his friends. 


	27. If You Love Me for Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a song is sung and sparks fly. (And Lucio continues to be the worst).

Portia seemed far more nervous than usual when she came to help Meleia get dressed. Her smile was far less bright, and she didn’t chat as much. 

Meleia couldn’t help but feel like she’d already done something wrong. Were princesses not supposed to sing in the bath? Somehow, that hadn’t come up in any of Julian’s lessons. 

She almost apologized, but she remembered both Damian and Julian had told her not to do that. So she forced herself to stay quiet as Portia helped her into her gown and did up her hair. But when Portia’s rather feeble attempts at gossip fell completely flat, Meleia couldn’t hold back any longer. 

“Portia?” 

“Hmm?” Portia glanced up, looking at Meleia’s reflection in the vanity instead of directly at her. “Need something?” 

“No,” Meleia said slowly. “I was just... worried.” 

Apparently, the idea of Meleia being worried about anything was something Forge would not tolerate. Until that instant, he’d been blissfully curled up on Meleia’s bed. He’d made a little nest for himself out of the blankets, just like he used to do with the fabric back home. 

Like he _ would _ do, when all this was over. Meleia really had to stop thinking about staying in the palace for any extended period of time. 

At any rate, Forge quickly leaped off the bed and padded over to Meleia. He sat at her heels and looked up at her, ears drooping in concern. 

Portia’s smile was instantly warmer. “I get it. I bet it’s all still a little overwhelming. But you’ll be fine.” 

“It’s not that,” said Meleia. “I mean, I _ am _ still worried about pulling this off, but... Portia, are you okay?” 

“Me?” Portia’s eyes widened, surprised. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Meleia couldn’t find the words to say what she really meant. There were a hundred reasons why Portia wouldn’t be okay. For one, they hadn’t heard from Julian yet. Neither of them had any clue where he was. Which meant that not only were they no closer to finding Damian, but Portia had to worry about her brother’s safety as well. 

At last, Meleia gave a tiny, sheepish shrug. “I thought you looked a little... preoccupied.” 

“Oh, that,” said Portia. “That’s nothing. The Majestro just arrived a little sooner than we expected, that’s all.” 

Meleia tried to whirl around and look at Portia. 

“You mean he’s _ here _?” Meleia gasped. “Already?” 

Portia sighed. “Meleia, please, you’ve gotta hold still.” 

Meleia instantly turned back to the mirror. She could only look at her own guilty face for a split second before she couldn’t handle it anymore and looked at the floor instead. 

“But, yes, he’s here,” said Portia. “He has been for a while, now.” 

Meleia’s stomach dropped. She felt hollow. She wouldn’t have been surprised if her hands were shaking. 

Oh, gods, what was she supposed to say? What was she supposed to _ do? _ She felt utterly unprepared, even though Julian had put so much effort into getting her ready. 

“Aw, no need to look so nervous,” said Portia. “I’m sure the Majestro will be very happy to speak with you. He... well, he seems very friendly.” 

“You’ve met him?” Meleia tried to twist around again. 

Portia nudged Meleia’s head, making look back at the mirror. “Yep. Not long before I came to get you.” 

“What’s he like?” Meleia said breathlessly. “He wasn’t mad about a random visiting princess, was he?” 

Portia laughed out loud. “No, he wasn’t mad at all. I promise.” 

“Then... he’s not scary?” Meleia found herself asking. 

Portia frowned a bit. “Well, I’m not a huge fan of snakes in general, and he did bring his silvery one...” 

Meleia shook her head. “I don’t mind snakes. I mean, I’ve never seen one in person, but I’ve seen drawings and I think they’re--”

“Meleia, we are never going to finish if you keep moving around!” Portia huffed. 

Meleia snapped back into position again. 

“Thank you,” said Portia. She went back to doing Meleia’s hair. “Anyway, as for the Majestro... you’ll just have to see what he’s like for yourself.” 

“But...” 

“Come on,” Portia laughed. “You don’t want me to ruin the surprise, do you?” 

“Surprise?” Meleia repeated, startled. 

Portia giggled. “Oops! Said too much already! Just relax and go with the flow! I promise, you’re going to be fine. All you have to do is... you know. Be a princess. Easy.” 

Meleia sighed. Right. Easy. All she had to do was remember all that decorum and all the things Julian had told her about Nevivon and take everything she’d picked up about trading from working at the shop and somehow magically transfer it over to the much grander scale of three kingdoms. That sounded _ very _ easy...

“And... we’re all set!” Portia declared. She stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Oh, Meleia, you’ve _ gotta _ see yourself! You look ravishing! Milady has _ excellent _ taste in fashion.” 

Meleia wandered over to the full-length mirror in her guest room in a sort of daze. She wasn’t sure she was ready to see herself. She couldn’t imagine why any guest room would want two entire mirrors, anyway. Maybe it was just a nobility thing... 

The instant she caught sight of her reflection, she froze. 

She’d thought the blue dress was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever get to wear. She’d been completely wrong. 

Meleia felt like she were wearing the sunset. Soft pinks and deep oranges mixed in a delicate, swirling pattern dyed directly into the silk. The skirts flared out in just the right way, brushing gently against her ankles, the fabric smooth and flowing as water. 

And it wasn’t just the gown. Portia had done something even more intricate with her hair than before, somehow making it compliment the silver circlet that the Queen had lent them fit perfectly. Now that Meleia was thinking about it, she noticed that all of her accessories were silver: a silver sash, silver embroidery on her bodice, and even a silver bracelet. Somehow, the Queen had found the exact shade to match Meleia’s eyes perfectly. 

Meleia couldn’t even form any words. She could only gape. If her reflection hadn’t had the same stunned expression, she would have been certain she were looking at someone else. 

“Look at you,” Portia practically cooed. “I’ve never seen a better princess.” 

Meleia couldn’t even muster up a blush at that. She was still too stunned. Portia must have picked up on that. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Still nervous?” 

Meleia shook her head. “No... well, not really. It’s just... I’ve never dreamed I might look like... like _ this. _” 

“You’re beautiful,” said Portia. 

Meleia almost laughed. “I’ve never been beautiful before.” 

Portia gave Meleia’s shoulder a gentle pat. She smiled reassuringly. “You were beautiful way before you put that dress on.” 

_ Now _ Meleia was blushing. She ducked her head, forgetting that she couldn’t hide behind her curls when they’d been pinned away from her face. 

“So what do you say?” Portia asked. “Ready to meet the Majestro?” 

Meleia couldn’t figure out an answer. She didn’t get the chance to respond, anyway. At that moment, someone knocked on the door. Before anyone could possibly open it, a voice called through. 

“Princess? Are you still in there?” 

Meleia gasped. Portia scowled. Both of them would know that voice anywhere. 

Lucio. 

“_ So _ sorry for the interruption,” the Count went on, sounding very much as if he didn’t care at all about the interruption, “but I _ do _ need to speak with you.” 

Meleia shot Portia a panicked look. Portia looked furious at the very idea that Lucio had dared to knock on their door. But she gave a short, grim nod. Meleia nervously bit her lip. Nonetheless, she nodded in return. 

She could deal with Lucio. She had to. 

“Come in,” Meleia called.

She instantly winced at that, thinking it must not have sounded very princess-y. But she managed to smooth her expression just in time for Lucio to open the door far more dramatically than was strictly necessary. He strode inside as though he were making a grand entrance. 

Forge instantly went into defense mode. His stood straight as a rod, his fur puffed up, and his ears pulled back. He growled at Lucio, a noise that would have been dangerous from any other animal. 

Lucio took a single step back. He frowned down at Forge with a look that was almost a pout. 

“I see your dear little _ pet _ is still rather feisty,” said Lucio coldly. “Did you really think it was a good idea to bring it here? It looks like a troublemaker.” 

“He’s my _ friend, _” Meleia said firmly. “I never travel without him.” 

Forge held his head up proudly. Meleia couldn’t hold back a grateful smile. She hadn’t technically lied-- since she had never really traveled before, she certainly hadn’t traveled without Forge-- but she was still glad that Forge seemed so ready to support her story.

Lucio scowled. He glared at Forge as though personally offended. 

“Besides,” Meleia added quickly, “he would never hurt anyone. He’s very friendly.” 

She silently hoped that this would remain true. Forge had never acted so outwardly hostile towards anyone, not even Valerius, whom he was justifiably terrified of. Meleia privately hoped Forge would be able to reel it in a bit. 

“Doesn’t seem to like me much, does he?” said the Count with a forced smile. 

Meleia was dearly tempted to reply with _ he’s an excellent judge of character, _ but she managed to hold herself back. 

Portia, on the other hand, didn’t worry about anything like that at all. 

“On the subject of occasionally troublesome pets,” she cut in, “Mercedes and Melchior aren’t around, are they? I’d hate for either of them to try to attack our guest’s royal companion.” 

If the thought of Lucio’s hounds going after Forge hadn’t been so terrifying, Meleia would have laughed at giving Forge the title of royal companion. Mostly because she was completely convinced Portia had just made that up. 

Lucio’s grin shifted from pained to outright cruel. 

“No need to worry about that,” he said flippantly. “They’re off having some delicious breakfast.” 

Meleia’s stomach churned. She didn’t really want to know what those dogs ate. 

“Besides, they’re _ exceptionally _ well-trained,” Lucio bragged. “They would _ never _ attack without my command.” 

Once again, Meleia was forced to bite back a cutting remark. The memory of one of those white dogs rushing after Oswald was enough to make her want to scream. 

“Unfortunately, we’ll have to talk about my babies a little later,” said Lucio. He swept a bow that was even more over-the-top than his entrance had been. “My dear princess, I have been asked to escort you to your meeting with the Majestro.” 

Meleia’s eyes widened. Portia jumped in, almost literally leaping in front of her. 

“No need,” she said coolly. “I’ll take care of that.”

“Oh, but the Queen _ insists, _” said Lucio with a sly grin. 

Portia scowled, absolutely dripping with doubt. She looked like she were about to throw herself at Lucio and start something akin to a bar fight. 

But the last thing Meleia wanted to do was cause any trouble. She didn’t like the idea of being escorted _ anywhere _ by the Count. At all. Yet doing anything else would just raise suspicions. 

“Then by all means,” said Meleia before Portia could start a scuffle. “I don’t mind having a double escort, as it were.” 

She gave Portia a very pointed look. Portia still seemed like she wanted to argue, but she relented. 

“I should see if Her Majesty needs me, anyway,” she agreed. 

Lucio’s smile was more like a smirk. “She’s waiting in the ballroom, along with her _ other _ royal guests.” 

HIs tone made it clear that he thought the Princess of Nevivon somehow inferior to the Majestro of Zadith. It was all Meleia could do to keep her expression calm. She hoped the nod she gave him instead of a glare looked at least somewhat noble. 

“Lead the way,” she said. 

Lucio didn’t so much as offer her an arm. He simply swept through the door. He didn’t even look back to see if Meleia and Portia were following. 

Meleia was honestly glad that she wouldn’t have to take Lucio’s arm. But she couldn’t help exchanging a very annoyed glance with Portia. This was _ not _ how either of them had wanted things to go. Still, they didn’t have much choice but to follow. 

The guest room Meleia was staying in was surprisingly close to the ballroom. Meleia wondered if that were by design. Maybe they used rooms like that for any balls or masquerades they held at the palace. She’d made plenty of lavish outfits for events like that, but had never gotten to attend one herself. She idly wondered if she would ever get the chance. 

She didn’t get to think about that for long. The doors to the ballroom must have been open. She could already hear voices echoing down the hall. One was definitely the Queen’s. And the other... the Ambassador? Maybe? 

“...have to thank you for your understanding,” said the maybe-Ambassador. 

“Likewise, Majestro,” the Queen replied. “Your consideration and patience are greatly appreciated.” 

“I’m only sorry I can’t do more,” said the second voice. 

Meleia just grew more and more confused the more she heard. She _ definitely _ thought that was the Ambassador’s voice. But it sounded like the Queen was talking to the Majestro. What was going on? 

“Nonsense.” The Queen’s voice rang out loud and clear, far more so than whoever she was talking to. “You’ve done more than enough already. I, on the other hand, feel I must apologize for the rather lackluster welcome...” 

Lucio had reached the door. Meleia automatically tried to crane forward, hoping to sneak a peek at what was going on inside before Lucio ruined it. She listened carefully, trying to hear more of the conversation. 

“Not at all,” the second person said lightly. “Actually, I appreciate--”

That was when Lucio actually _ did _ ruin everything. As expected. 

The Count tossed the door fully open, despite the fact that it was absolutely enormous. As if that wasn’t enough to announce his presence, he cleared his throat. Loudly. And the conversation instantly screeched to a halt. 

“Forgive the interruption,” Lucio sneered. “Allow me to _ personally _ present... the Princess Meleia.” 

Meleia stepped into the room, Portia right by her side. And she was more confused than ever. The first thing she noticed was the large number of guards. They blended into the walls well, so Meleia was sure the true royals didn’t even notice them, but to Meleia it was a very strange sight. They all looked ready for anything. Even the Ambassador’s guard seemed stiffer than usual. 

Meleia forced her attention away from the guards and toward the _ really _ confusing part. The Queen was standing at the bottom of a lavish staircase, right next to the Ambassador. That alone wasn’t all too strange. But what was the Ambassador wearing? HIs robes were far more formal than before. Maybe even more elegant than Meleia’s dress. And in twice as many beautiful colors. And was that a... circlet? Maybe even a crown? 

He almost looked like... but no, he couldn’t be. 

Forge brushed up against her ankles almost like a cat. Meleia crashed back to reality. She abruptly realized she’d been staring. And she was _ sure _ princesses didn’t stare. 

At least the Ambassador was smiling. And so was the Queen. 

“Ah, there you are,” said Nadia. “Welcome, Your Highness. I would like to introduce you to our second royal guest... Majestro Asra of Zadith.” 

Meleia froze. Her heart could have stopped and she probably wouldn’t have noticed. Her faint suspicion had been proven horribly true. 

The Ambassador wasn’t the Ambassador. He was the _ Majestro. _

Oh, gods, what had Meleia gotten herself _ into? _

“I believe the Majestro has something he wishes to tell you,” said Nadia with a barely concealed smirk. 

The Ambassador-- no, the _ Majestro _\-- flushed just a bit. But he quickly collected himself and stepped forward, meeting Meleia right in the center of the dance floor. He made an elegant gesture that was somewhere between a bow and a curtsey. 

“It’s an honor to finally meet you,” he said. Then he flushed again. “You know. Officially.” 

For a moment, Meleia stayed rooted to the spot. The Majestro just smiled at her, looking rather sheepish. Meleia snapped herself out of it and tried to curtsey. She didn’t know how nicely it turned out considering her hands were shaking. 

“Oh, no, the honor is mine, Majestro.” At least her voice wasn’t trembling. 

The Majestro gently caught her elbows in his hands. He eased her upwards, guiding her out of her curtsey. 

“No, please,” he said, looking distinctly flustered, “you don’t have to do any of that. I was never really one for formalities.” 

He chuckled awkwardly. Meleia must have looked rather awkward herself as she took a small step back, slipping out of his grip. Still, she couldn’t help a little smile of her own.

They locked eyes for a moment. Then the Majestro cleared his throat and glanced away. Meleia found herself glancing at her borrowed shoes. She tried to stay quiet, but the silence very quickly became overwhelming. 

“I guess that means no more curtseys, then. Majestro?” said Meleia.

She instantly kicked herself for that one. Somehow, she’d managed to make things even _ more _ awkward in her attempt to make them _ less _ awkward. 

To her surprise, the Majestro laughed. “Exactly. And no more ‘Majestro,’ either. Please, just call me Asra.” 

Meleia’s eyes widened. “No, I... I mean, I couldn’t possibly...” 

“Of course you can,” said the Majestro lightly. 

Meleia wanted to argue further. But she thought that arguing with the Majestro would not only be suspicious, but it would also be incredibly rude. And with the way both the Queen and Lucio were looking at her, she couldn’t afford _ either _ of those reactions. 

“If you insist,” she said, trying to smile. “Oh, and you can just call me Meleia.” 

The Majestro-- Asra-- gave a dignified nod. But this tiny hint of a regal demeanor did nothing to hide his playful smile. 

“I think I can manage that,” he said lightly. “It’s truly a pleasure to meet you, Meleia.” 

Meleia was spared the need to come up with something else to say by Forge. He trotted up to Asra and started batting at his fancy shoes. 

Meleia gasped. She lurched forward, ready to snatch Forge away. But Asra just chuckled again. 

“Well, hello to you, too,” he laughed. He reached down to pet Forge, but stopped and glanced up at Meleia instead. “May I...?” 

“Of course,” Meleia said at once. 

Asra crouched down on the floor. He ran a hand all the way down Forge’s back, even petting his tail. Forge seemed to like that very much. He leaned in closer, trying to get more pets. 

“Someone’s friendly,” Asra chuckled. He looked up at Meleia again, though he didn’t stop petting Forge. “You know, I’ve seen a few foxes in my travels, but none of them have ever let me get this close.” 

“Forge is one of a kind,” Meleia agreed. She was beaming, and only partially with pride. 

“He certainly is,” Asra agreed. 

He stood up then, leaving Forge looking rather upset that he was no longer being petted. 

“He likes you,” said Meleia. 

She wasn’t even aware she’d said that out loud until Asra chuckled again. “I think I like him, too.” 

Then, to Meleia’s confusion, he started playing with his sash. 

“Faust?” he called. “Come on, don’t be shy. I’m sure he doesn’t eat snakes.” 

A tiny, silvery-purple head poked out of Asra’s sash. This must have been Asra’s snake. It flicked its tongue curiously out into the air. And then it ducked right back in. 

“That was Faust,” said Asra, looking concerned. “She’s not normally this shy... I think she just got a bit too used to hiding out while we were here.” 

Asra tried to coax Faust out again. Meleia was tempted to pull Forge back, just to give them both a little space. But Forge was not going to miss this chance to make a new friend. 

Forge pushed up on his two hind paws, using Asra’s leg to hoist himself up. He started sniffing at Asra’s sash. The snake poked her nose out again, startling Forge. Forge flinched, his fur puffing up, and backed up just a bit. But he didn’t plop down to the floor. Nor did he stay startled for very long. Hesitantly, almost the same way he had when they had first met Damian and Oswald, Forge pressed his snout against the snake’s nose. The snake wiggled in what was very clearly joy. And she booped Forge right back. Forge yipped happily and pushed off Asra’s leg like a springboard. He started running circles around Asra’s feet.

Meleia sighed. “Forge, _ please, _ we’re supposed to be polite...” 

But Asra didn’t seem offended. Or even upset. He actually seemed distinctly relieved. 

“Looks like your friend likes Faust, too,” he said with a smile. “And she likes him.” 

Meleia watched Faust somehow twine herself all around Asra’s waist in an attempt to join in Forge’s new game. A laugh bubbled out of her before she was even aware of it. 

“I think I like Faust, too,” she said. 

Asra caught her eye again. His own eyes-- a beautiful purple, Meleia couldn’t help but notice-- sparkled with mischief. Like he and Meleia were sharing a little secret. 

Meleia quickly glanced away. 

“Well, now that all the introductions are over,” said Asra, not even remotely bothered by the romping animals, “I’m sure you’re wondering why I disguised myself as the Ambassador.” 

“A little,” Meleia admitted. 

Asra shot a rather guilty look to the Queen before facing Meleia again. Somehow, he looked even more guilty when he was looking at Meleia. 

“I wanted to meet everyone without all the... ceremony,” Asra explained. “To see what the Palace was really like. What _ Vesuvia _ was really like.” 

Any trace of a smile Meleia may have had completely vanished. Under any other circumstances, she would have given nearly anything to show a visiting royal around the city. But now she would never get the chance. 

Worse, he was trying to see the _ true _ Vesuvia. And here she was, lying to his face. 

“I know,” said Asra, his own face falling. “It’s a little strange, isn’t it? Wandering around a palace in disguise?” 

Meleia almost laughed. “No. I mean, not _ that _ strange.” 

Asra flashed her a quick, thankful grin before continuing. “Muriel-- that’s my guard-- he wasn’t too happy about the idea either. But I’ve always found you can judge a ruler by how they treat those of a slightly lower status far better than how they treat important guests.” 

Automatically, Meleia glanced back up at Nadia. The Queen was smiling serenely. Meleia was once again amazed by how fairly she had been treated. How Nadia had actually been willing to help instead of kicking her out. She hoped that Asra had seen that kind side of Nadia, too. That he was all the more willing to help the kingdom now. 

But that would mean he would marry Damian, and then... 

She blinked. Why was she even _ thinking _ about that? 

“I didn’t want to commit to anything if I ended up... _ disagreeing _ with some of Her Majesty’s choices,” Asra went on. 

Meleia nodded. “I understand.” 

“That is quite gracious of you, Your Highness,” Nadia cut in. 

Meleia flushed. Asra looked almost as awkward as she felt. 

“Now, then.” Nadia swept forward, joining their little circle. “If we’re all settled, I believe we have some time before lunch will be ready.” 

“Of course,” said Asra. “We can start those discussions right--”

Nadia held up a hand, cutting him off. “Nonsense. I won’t have my guests work on such an important project on an empty stomach. In the meantime... perhaps a bit of entertainment? I hear you enjoy music, Majestro.” 

“I dabble,” said Asra with a shrug. 

“Perhaps you would like to sing for us?” Nadia suggested. 

“Perhaps,” Asra echoed. Then he gave Meleia a sidelong glance. “If the Princess sings with me.” 

Meleia gasped. Her? Sing with the _ Majestro? _ She couldn’t imagine anything more wonderful. 

But she wasn’t here to sing. And she hadn’t even earned the right to sing _ for _ royalty, let alone _ with _ royalty. 

“O-oh, no, I couldn’t...” Meleia stuttered. 

“Why not?” Asra asked. “Nevivon’s rather infamous for it’s music, isn’t it?” 

Meleia laughed awkwardly. Julian had mentioned something like that. But since it was a small, seaside kingdom, most of the songs that came from Vesuvia were sailor songs. Meleia did know a few of them, but... 

“I can’t say Nevivon music is exactly appropriate for polite company,” said Meleia.

“Something from Vesuvia, then?” Asra suggested, looking pointedly at Nadia. 

“If Princess Meleia agrees,” Nadia replied. 

All of Meleia’s desperate desire to actually sing with the Majestro was instantly replaced by a wish to fall into the nearest bottomless pit. Why, _ why _ was everyone putting this decision on her? She wasn’t even supposed to be here! 

But she couldn’t exactly refuse. As much as she thought she should have. 

“I do know a few Vesuvian folk songs,” she said nervously. 

Asra beamed. “So do I.” 

“It seems that’s settled, then,” said Nadia. “I would be happy to accompany you.” 

“You would?” Meleia’s voice was nearly a squeak. 

“Of course,” said Nadia with a smile. “Though I hope you will forgive me if I am not at my best. I have been a bit distracted of late.” 

Meleia nodded. She understood all to well. 

“Not to mention that I much prefer the pipe organ to the piano,” Nadia added, “but I’m afraid we would have to move to the parlor if I were to play that.” 

“I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully,” said Asra. 

But he wasn’t looking at the Queen. He was looking at Meleia. 

Meleia couldn’t even form a response to anything that had just happened. Her mind was reeling. She’d had _ far _ too many surprises today. 

Nadia seemed to take her silence as some kind of agreement. She stepped over to the pipe organ tucked in one corner of the room. She prepared to play, but before she could start, Asra rushed over and whispered something to her. Poor Forge was left rather confused, since his new snake friend had just been carried off with the Majestro. Meleia absently scooped him up and patted his head. She needed that bit of normalcy. Her heart was pounding, and she wasn’t sure if it were because of all the overwhelming facts she’d just been thrown or the fact that she was about to sing in the palace for _ two _ different royals or how Asra’s mischievous smile made her both nervous and excited about what song they might have chosen. Probably some strange mix of all three.

Then Nadia started to play. Meleia instantly recognized the song. She’d never really had the opportunity to sing it before, not to anyone besides Volta, but she’d always loved it. 

Nadia played a very obvious lead-in. She looked at Meleia expectantly. 

But Meleia hesitated. She couldn’t bring herself to sing. This was nothing like singing for Volta, or trying to catch an audience in the streets. 

Asra walked back over to her. To Meleia’s surprise, he looked... _ concerned _. 

“Is everything alright?” Asra asked. “Did I pick the wrong song?” 

“No!” Meleia said quickly. “I mean, I know this one, I just...” 

She trailed off before she could make matters worse. She was probably a tomato again. 

Asra’s concern only grew. Then he seemed to come to some sort of conclusion, for he gave her a gentle smile. 

“Nervous, huh?” he asked. “So am I.” 

Meleia stared. He was nervous? But he seemed so composed... 

Asra offered his hand. “Don’t worry. It’s all just for fun. Besides... something tells me you have a wonderful voice.” 

“Where did you hear that?” Meleia asked. 

Asra merely smiled that teasing smile again, like she already knew the answer. 

Before she knew it, Meleia found herself taking his hand. She let Asra lead her over to the piano. The music swept her up. And she started to sing.

It was just a simple melody with a simple love story, about a couple who agreed that nothing in the world mattered more than caring for one another for _ who _ they were, not _ what _ they were. But it had always held a special place in Meleia’s heart. And she simply got lost in it. 

She didn’t notice Forge trotting happily behind her, circling both her and Asra almost eagerly. She didn’t notice Faust bopping along to the music. She didn’t see Nadia beaming, or Portia absolutely glowing as she watched from her little corner by the guards, or the tiny smile that Asra’s guard managed. She certainly didn’t notice Lucio rolling his eyes and huffing. 

She hardly noticed anything at all. Until Asra joined the song. 

He took the second verse like it was the most natural thing in the world. And Meleia stopped for him, letting him sing his part without really thinking about it. It just... happened. 

And then they were singing together. A simple but beautiful counterpoint. And while Asra may not have practiced music as much as Meleia had, their voices fit together nicely.

All the while, Asra was watching her with something like admiration in his eyes. He was having just as much fun as she was. 

And for that one, perfect moment, Meleia thought she had never felt more whole and happy in her entire life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo excited that I FINALLY got some great Asra moments in! He's my personal favorite I love him. 
> 
> ANYWAY. 
> 
> I played around a lot with how songs were going to work in this case. I even considered writing a little song-poem-thing. But then I realized nothing could beat the original "If You Love Me for Me" so I kind of gave up on that lol. Hope it all worked out anyway!


	28. A Watchful Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lucio's suspicions and impatience both grow.

Lucio didn’t even bother to hide his scowl as he watched that little princess serenade the Majestro. It wasn’t that he cared that the two of them were getting along. The Majestro could have started getting all buddy-buddy with that stupid tutor for all the difference it made. No, it was the princess herself that made him bristle. 

Something about her just rubbed him the wrong way. 

Not only was the timing _ far _too perfect, but no one he spoke to had even heard of the Princess of Nevivon before. Not that he’d talked to anyone besides Vulgora and Vlastomil about it, but still. And his dear Noddy had always been clever. She would never think to enlist such a tiny, nearly nameless kingdom to help with financial trouble. Yet Noddy seemed almost too eager to entertain this mysterious royal guest. Even going so far as to let her hobnob with the very important Majestro. 

As if the girl’s singing wasn’t annoying enough. Simple little love songs. Where was the drama? Where was the glory? Where were the tales of blood and conquest? 

Either way, Lucio doubted that Nadia had any suspicions of his own hand in the prince’s disappearance. As clever as she was, _ he _ was masterful. There was no chance anyone could possibly suspect him. 

Not now. Not since the prince’s foolish tutor was out of the way. 

It had taken a bit of work to make Vulgora leave Jules alive, but Lucio had the feeling that it would be completely worth it. Who knew when he might need a good scapegoat? The tutor’s rather sketchy past made it all too easy to frame him. And Lucio had seen first hand how much Jules was willing to go through for the little prince’s sake... it wouldn’t take much to convince Jules that his precious Damian would be in some very serious trouble if he didn’t behave.

But at the moment he had other things to deal with. Namely the fact that this silly princess was still insisting upon keeping up with that bland, aimless song_ . _ And worse, the Majestro was _ encouraging _her. Even joining in. 

Lucio appreciated a good show, of course, but this was just _ sad _. 

It felt like an eternity before the song was finally over. The princess started giggling the instant it was over. It was moments like that, which seemed to come far too often, that made Lucio start to suspect that she might have been too stupid to have some kind of plot against his plot after all. 

The Majestro was smiling in a very simpering way. 

“See?” he said gently. “Beautiful.” 

Lucio had no idea what he was talking about. But it made the princess turn a blotchy red. 

“You truly do have a marvelous voice,” Nadia agreed. “You are quite a talented singer as well, Majestro.” 

The Majestro shrugged. “I haven’t put much effort into singing, I’ll admit. Not like you.” 

His eyes flicked to the princess again. She somehow managed to turn even redder. 

“You really do sound amazing,” she mumbled. 

“Thanks,” the Majestro chuckled. “I’ve never gotten such high compliments before... though I have heard I’m a pretty capable dancer.” 

“Seeing as we are in the ballroom,” said Nadia almost teasingly, “a dance sounds like a very fitting idea.” 

The Majestro’s smile just got sillier. He offered the princess his hand.

The princess pulled back a bit. She stared at his hand in something close to horror. 

Lucio was sick of waiting. He strode forward, cutting between Nadia and the two visiting royals. 

“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time for proper festivities later,” he said as coolly as he could. “Right now, we have some more _ important _ things to worry about.” 

The Majestro stared at him almost incredulously. Lucio ignored him. 

“I suppose you’re right,” Nadia agreed. She pushed herself up to her feet. “Perhaps we should relocate to a more fitting space for such discussions.” 

“Might I suggest the library?” Lucio instantly cut in. “It’s so full of... books, you know. Sounds like just the place.” 

He didn’t notice that Asra’s glare had changed to one of exasperation. But Lucio couldn’t miss the way Meleia’s face lit up. 

“The royal library...” she breathed. 

Luico stared at her, meticulously done up brows raised. Asra tore his glare away from Lucio long enough to shoot her an odd glance. Nadia was looking at her almost fondly. And if Lucio had bothered to check, he might have noticed that half the guards were looking at the princess, too. 

She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, that was... rather out of line, wasn’t it? It’s just... that is, I’ve heard much about the Vesuvian royal library. It’s supposedly one of the greatest libraries in existence, with books from all over the world...” 

Asra’s surprised expression melted into a smile. “You like to read?” 

“I love to,” said Meleia, her expression nearly matching the Majestro’s. Though her joy quickly evaporated. “But I hardly ever have time to so much as pick up a book.”

“I know the feeling,” said Asra. 

Lucio scowled. This was going nowhere. 

“Well, I’m sure you can both settle down and read _ after _ we’ve looked at those kingdom-joining plans of yours,” he said quickly. He gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”

“A fair point,” Nadia conceded. “My dear guests, I hope you are both aware that you may read any of the books in the library that you wish.” 

Both the Princess and the Majestro looked like children who had just gotten the world’s best birthday present. 

Lucio didn’t bother to hide a scoff. 

But, at last, they moved to the library. Nadia asked one of her servants-- that redhead girl who was always fussing over Noddy and making fun of Jules-- to bring drinks and snacks. Lucio was rather surprised by that: it was rare that the Queen allowed food of any kind near the library. He didn’t know what that meant. But it just made him all the more suspicious of that so-called Princess. 

He hoped he would catch her during the discussions, hoped he would find _ something _ that might prove she wasn’t who she seemed... but there was nothing. She did good work. _ Surprisingly _ good. Lucio didn’t even understand half the stuff they were talking about while they blathered on and pointed at maps and scribbled things on other maps and made endless notes. He’d never bothered to learn how to deal with little details like those. When he was King, he wouldn’t need to deal with it. He’d leave that to someone else. Maybe even Noddy, since she seemed to like that kind of thing. Or perhaps, if Meleia turned out to simply be an innocent princess, Lucio might keep her around when he took the throne.

The talk went on forever. And then it went longer. Lucio was eager to get out of that stuffy old room. He’d never spent so much time in the library in his life. 

The worst part was that, technically, he had no reason to stay. He had very little to offer or add in the conversation (not that that stopped him from adding to it anyway). And there was very little that was worse than just _ standing _ there. 

He could be doing literally anything else. Probably even continuing his “search” for the prince... though at this point, he may _ actually _ have to go hunt Damian down, seeing as Vulgora and Vlastomil remained as incompetant as always... 

But no. He had to stay here and figure out what the hell this interloper was doing here. 

Even if that meant standing around, bored out of his skull. 

Besides, he would look terrible if he ended up running out right then. Everyone else was perfectly engaged. Even that ugly little fox and the Majestro’s simpering snake were being surprisingly quiet. They weren’t remotely paying attention to anything going on around them, instead playing some sort of game where the fox would try to bat at the snake’s tail and the snake would gleefully dodge. It was so sickeningly adorable. 

What Lucio wouldn’t give to let Mercedes and Melchior chase after them. Such foolish prey would be no match for his beautiful babies... 

Finally, _ finally, _ they were interrupted by a distinct sound. Someone’s stomach was rumbling. All eyes instantly went to the Princess. Even the animals stopped what they were doing to stare. 

Asra’s glance turned almost mischievous. Lucio hated that look. It made the Majestro look like he was up to something. And _ Lucio _ was the only person who was supposed to be up to something. That was why he was so focused on making sure the Princess didn’t do whatever she was planning to do. 

She _ must _ have been planning something. His instinct _ couldn’t _ be wrong. 

“What was that?” Asra asked, amused. 

Meleia turned into a tomato again. If nothing else, she was very good at doing _ that. _

“I, um...” she stuttered. “Nothing.” 

Asra chuckled. “I think it’s time for a food break.” 

Meleia’s cheeks faded from red to a light pinkish color. Lucio scowled. She needed to stop being so _ cute _ all the time. 

“Goodness, look at the time,” said Nadia, startled. “It’s no wonder anyone’s hungry. I expected we would have been called for lunch an hour ago.”

She glanced over at the red-haired servant girl, who had been spending the time refilling everyone’s drinks. She bowed apologetically. 

“We didn’t want to interrupt,” she said. “I’ll make sure the dining hall is all set for you.” 

With that, she bustled off. Lucio was tempted to shout his order after her, to demand that he be served red wine with his meal. He would certainly _ need _ it today. But the Majestro’s sudden movement caught his eye, completely distracting him. 

Asra stepped up to Meleia. He looked very concerned.

“You didn’t eat any of the tea cakes,” he said softly. “Did you?” 

Lucio couldn’t care less what she had or hadn’t eaten. But Meleia shifted uncomfortably. And her fox padded over to her, looking nearly as concerned as Lucio’s hounds did whenever Lucio so much as stubbed a toe. 

“I... didn’t even think about them, I suppose,” she said, sounding ashamed. “I must have been distracted by our work.”

The Majestro didn’t look convinced. 

“I understand,” he said gently. “But next time you need anything, please, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll help however I can, and I’m sure Her Majesty will say the same.” 

Nadia didn’t even need Asra’s pointed look to reply. “Of course.” 

Meleia flushed again, but didn’t say anything more. 

Lucio had thought he would get a bit of relief from his horrible boredom at lunch. He did not. Nadia, Asra, and Meleia kept blathering on about nothing in particular. At least Lucio had the chance to throw some scraps to his hounds. They enjoyed the meal _ far _ more than he did. 

He noticed Meleia doing much the same for her fox friend. And Asra slipped his snake a few treats as well. 

It was all so annoyingly innocent. 

Eventually, the conversation trailed to the gardens. For some reason, Nadia always liked to brag about them whenever royal guests came over. 

“They really do sound incredible,” said Asra. “Perhaps I could explore them while I’m here?” 

“I’d love to come with you,” said Meleia eagerly, only to instantly pull back again. “That is, if you wouldn’t mind.” 

“Not at all,” said Asra. “I’d love to have you.” 

Lucio had heard more than enough of this nonsense. 

“Do you really think it wise to go wandering around the gardens on your own?” he cut in. “We have to worry about security, after all.” 

“Oh?” Asra gave him an almost scathing look. “I hadn’t realized you were the chief of security.” 

Nadia chuckled, much to Lucio’s absolute indignation. 

“Not quite,” she said with a slight smile. “Though he does interact with the guards quite often. He occasionally runs training regimes with them, don’t you, Lucio?” 

“That I do,” said Lucio. He felt much better about the whole thing now. “Why, I remember the time when Bludmilla wanted to spar with me and I--”

“Ah, yes,” Nadia chuckled. “The fisticuffs match. To borrow a phrase, she wiped the floor with you, didn’t she?” 

“I _ let _ her win!” Lucio spluttered. “To give her a bit more confidence!” 

“Of course,” said Nadia, though she was still smirking. 

Lucio scowled again. 

“Still, the safety of my guests has always been a very high priority,” said Nadia. “I’m sure I can find some guards to escort you as you explore the gardens... provided Portia is willing to give you a tour.” 

Portia had been in the middle of refilling Nadia’s goblet. She jumped in surprise, splashing wine on her apron. 

“Would you be able to do that for us tonight, Portia?” Nadia asked gently. 

“Oh! I mean, yes, of course!” Portia cried at once. 

Asra beamed. “I’m looking forward to it.” 

“Thank you, Portia,” said Meleia at almost the exact same instant. 

The two caught each other’s eye. They both laughed rather awkwardly. 

Lucio scowled for what felt like the umpteenth time. Just sickening. 

This little Princess’s act was far too sweet. Far too innocent. Lucio couldn’t let her get away with whatever she was planning. He shot up from his chair, striking a rather imposing pose. 

“I would be happy to escort you myself, Your Highnesses,” he said with a flourishing bow. 

Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Thank you for the offer, Lucio, but I believe you have another important task to concern yourself with tonight.”

She didn’t explicitly state that he was supposed to be out looking for Damian. But the message was crystal clear. As was her glare. 

Lucio was forced to give in. 

“Of course,” he said with a much stiffer bow. 

He must have looked calm and cool on the outside. But inside, he was boiling with utter impatience. His entire plan was at stake. 

He needed to figure something out. Find some way to get that so-called princess out of the way, and out of his hair. 

But Nadia was keeping an infuriatingly close eye on the princess as well. After nearly missing lunch, the Queen seemed intent on making sure they didn’t go for so long without a break again. They’d only gone through one thing-- something about the military forces, which Luico had _ quite _a bit to say about-- before Nadia called for another break. 

“Portia, do you happen to know when dinner will be served?” Nadia asked. 

Portia bowed. “It should be ready in about two hours, Milady.” 

“Excellent.” Nadia swept to her feet. “I believe that’s more than enough time to give our guests that garden tour we were discussing, is it not?” 

Portia beamed. “I think it’s _ exactly _ enough time.” 

Lucio glowered. He started to protest, but the Majestro stood up, cutting him off. 

“That sounds wonderful,” he sighed. He stretched his arms luxuriously over his head and gave the princess a sidelong glance. “You coming too, Muriel? I’m sure we can check on Inanna while we’re there.” 

Muriel, who had been blending into the library’s shadows the whole time, gave a curt nod and a short grunt of approval. Lucio jumped. Muriel had been so silent that Lucio had completely forgotten he was there. The man was impeccably good at hiding. Maybe Lucio would hire him when he was King... he was certain he could find use for Muriel. 

“Inanna?” Meleia repeated. “Who’s that?” 

She was looking at the Guard, actually addressing him like he was worthy of being addressed. But it was the Majestro who answered. 

“Muriel’s friend,” Asra explained. “She’s a wolf. They’ve been together almost as long as Faust and I have.” 

Muriel was almost smiling. “Not that long. Inanna was nearly grown.” 

Asra chuckled. “That’s right. I almost forgot...” 

Lucio scowled. No wolf could be _ nearly _ as wonderful as his hounds. He’d raised them since they were pups, after all. 

“You’ve had Faust since she was a baby, right?” said Meleia, continuing the pointless conversation. 

“Hatched her myself,” Asra said proudly. “She was a gift from my parents.” 

For some odd reason, Meleia’s hand trialed towards the tacky little necklace she wore. Lucio watched with interest. Had that been a gift from her family as well? Was there a way he could use it to find out if she had truly come from Nevivon? But she never took the thing off. And Lucio didn’t know much about crystals. He was tempted to force the prince into telling him, when the prince was eventually captured again, but that seemed like far more work than it was worth. 

“What about you and Forge?” Asra asked. Gods, when were they going to stop blathering about their pets? “How did you meet?” 

The fox perked up at the sound of his name. He and that silly snake had been snuggled together by the fireplace. Faust had been using Forge’s tail as a pillow, but Forge stirring had made Faust look up, too. The image made the princess giggle again. 

“It’s a bit of a story,” said Meleia. “But the short version is that I found him hiding near a blacksmith’s forge. That’s how he got his name.” 

“Aww, cute,” Asra said fondly. “I’d love to hear the whole story, someday.” 

Lucio scoffed. This had gone on for far too long. 

“I’m sure we will have _ plenty _ of time for your cute little stories after everything is settled,” he griped. “Now, Noddy darling, are you sure you can all spare the time for both a fancy royal dinner _ and _ a garden party?” 

“Certainly,” said Nadia without missing a beat. “Provided the Majestro agrees.” 

“Oh, absolutely,” said Asra. 

Meleia giggled. She tried to hide it behind her hand, but Asra caught her eye. He shot her a playful smile, like he was in on the joke, too. That just made her giggle even harder. Luco scowled again. Those two seemed to do nothing but laugh. 

“Though since we _ are _ a bit pressed for time,” said Nadia, still pointedly looking at Lucio, “perhaps we might cut dinner a bit short tonight? Surely we don’t need all of the usual pomp.” 

Lucio’s jaw dropped. “Ah, dinner’s fine, Noddy,” Lucio blurted out. “No need to go _ that _ far, I’m sure.” 

“Indeed,” said Nadia, a hint of a smile on her lips. 

The Majestro moved to pick up his snake. Lucio could have sworn Asra were trying to hide more laughter. It was clear the princess was doing the same. 

“Now that we’re all settled...” Nadia turned to Portia. 

That was all that Portia needed to spring into action. “Of course, Milady. One garden tour coming right up!” 

Meleia scooped up her fox. This brought her very close to Asra. He was still smiling at her with that sickening, simpering look. He didn’t even seem to notice that his snake was still trying to press her nose against the fox’s snout. 

“Ah, Noddy,” Lucio cut in, once again attempting to draw the conversation away from the silly animals. “You’ve forgotten to find an escort for our _ lovely _ Princess Meleia. We can’t simply allow her to go cavorting around in the gardens by herself.” 

“I’m not going to _ cavort, _” said Meleia. 

Lucio glared at her, but the Majestro jumped in before he could say anything. 

“I’m sure Muriel and I will be more than enough for any scary garden birds,” said Asra lightly. 

Meleia buried her face in Forge’s fur in a vain attempt to stifle yet another annoying giggle. Lucio turned towards her, sneering. 

“Considering the situation, I don’t think you should be worried about birds,” he hissed. 

That sobered the princess up quick. She gave Lucio a wary sort of look. Which was exactly what Lucio wanted. He let his cruel smile linger for a moment before addressing the Queen. 

“My offer to provide defence still stands, Noddy. 

Nadia sighed. “It seems I must remind you that you have a far more pressing mission at the moment. One that you also volunteered for.” 

Lucio had to hold back another scoff. Of course. His darling Noddy wasn’t going to make this easy, was she? The garden would have been the perfect place to find out what Meleia was really up to... or he could have found a way to make sure she got lost. And _ stayed _ lost. 

But, apparently, that wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight. 

“Fine,” he huffed. “I’ll go back to my search.” He whirled on Portia. “You! Get my horse ready!” 

Portia looked like she was ready to go on a tirade about how stupid Lucio was being right at that moment. Before she got the opportunity, Nadia stepped in. 

“Portia is rather busy at the moment,” she said coolly. “I’m sure one of our stable hands would be more than ready to help you.” 

Infuriated, Lucio swept out of the room without another word. 

He would go out tonight. Do a little more digging on where the prince might have gotten to. But he wouldn’t waste too much time. Vulgora and Vlastomil would find the prince. They knew they had no other choice. Lucio’s focus would remain on Meleia. 

She was going to ruin everything. He had to put a stop to her antics. 

Once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many times do you think Lucio can call Nadia "Noddy" in one chapter?


	29. A Private Oasis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the stolen moments are the most precious.

For Meleia, the day passed like a whirlwind. 

From singing-- _ in the palace, with the Majestro _\-- to studying maps to what must have been the most wonderful lunch she’d had in her entire life (and not just because of the food), Meleia hardly had any time to so much as think about what she was really doing here. 

Which was probably for the best. What Julian had noticed the other day had been completely right. She worked much better when she wasn’t overthinking things. 

Of course, Meleia didn’t fully realize that. All she knew was that, so far, she hadn’t been kicked out. And she was actually _ enjoying _herself. 

Though there were a few moments when she felt completely lost. She still felt like she didn’t know as much about Nevivon as she really should have. Granted, at times she still felt like she didn’t know as much about _ anything _ as she should have. 

But at least the basics had stuck with her. And now they were almost natural. 

If nothing else... she really felt like a princess. She felt like she really _ mattered _. Like people really cared. Like they were willing to listen. 

A part of her wished that feeling could last forever.

Whenever that wish popped up in her mind, she started overthinking again. 

She knew it was impossible. At least, it was for the real her, the girl who worked at the fine clothing shop. She was still determined to get out of that shop someday. To find a way to leave Vesuvia, to finally get a chance to go explore other kingdoms and share her songs with the world. Maybe even find some place where she felt the same way she did here. 

But that all depended on getting out of this in one piece. 

She hoped Julian would come back soon. Especially since Lucio seemed so intent on hanging around. Even Nadia was starting to get a little short with the Count. He was supposed to be looking for Damian, after all. There was no reason for him to be here. 

Well. Meleia would rather deal with Lucio herself than have to worry about him finding Julian. 

She sincerely hoped that Julian was alright, wherever he was. And she hoped that he was at least a little closer to finding Damian. To bringing him back home. 

Despite all of her worries, Meleia’s mind kept going back to one fact: When Damian got home, she might never see the Majestro again. 

Why did she keep focusing on that thought? Why did it make her feel so hollow inside? 

At last, Nadia managed to kick Lucio out. Or, more accurately, he had absolutely stormed out. After yelling at Portia a bit, of course. Meleia didn’t even bother to hide the furious glare she shot at Lucio’s back as he left. She thought she might have seen Portia cheekily and sarcastically wave Lucio goodbye, but the move was so quick and so swiftly hidden that she couldn’t be sure. 

Nadia let out another sigh. “I must apologize again for Lucio’s behavior. I don’t know what has gotten into him.” 

Meleia, of course, had a few ideas. But she remained silent. She couldn’t let the Queen know what was really going on. Not until Julian came back with Damian. And, hopefully, with proof of who had caused his disappearance. 

“Don’t worry, Milady,” said Portia. “He’s always like that.” 

For a moment, Meleia was utterly terrified of what the Queen might say to that. But to her surprise, Nadia only laughed. 

“He does tend to pout when he doesn’t immediately get his way, doesn’t he?” Nadia chuckled. “I’m sure he’ll calm down soon. He always does.” 

Meleia had had enough experience with Lucio to highly doubt that statement. She found herself shooting Asra a nervous glance. She didn’t know why she looked at him, of all people. But she was reassured when she saw that Asra looked about as convinced of Lucio’s ability to calm down as she was. 

With that, Nadia arranged for one of her own guards, a tall, muscular man named Ludovico, to be Meleia’s escort as Portia led them through the gardens. Portia was an excellent tour guide. It seemed every plant had a story. And most of them involved Portia’s hard work, and occasional run-ins with the local belligerent cockatoo. 

It was all beautiful. And Portia’s stories were highly entertaining. Still, Meleia would have been able to enjoy it more if there hadn’t been an armed guard hovering over her shoulder. He was nice enough, and far more willing to hold a conversation than Muriel (or Meleia, for that matter). But his hand kept trailing to his weapon, like he were expecting trouble any second. It was unnerving. 

By the time they were in the midst of the hedge maze, Meleia was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. She’d never been around unfamiliar people for so long. Especially not with the entire weight of two kingdoms on her shoulders. And as fun and friendly and wonderful as Portia was, her chatter was starting to feel overwhelming. 

Meleia tried to hide her discomfort as best as she could. She thought she would be good at _ that, _ at least, having had a lot of experience from the shop. But she must not have done very well at all. Asra noticed her plight. He glanced at Portia and Ludovico, as though making sure they weren’t listening, before leaning in a little closer to her. 

“You alright?” he asked, eyes full of concern. 

Meleia clutched Forge even closer to her chest than before. She had wrapped her arms around herself as though trying to stave off cold, though the evening was comfortably warm. But she nodded anyway. 

“I’m fine,” she lied. 

Asra’s concern only grew. He stole another furtive glance around. Then he smiled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“Want to find somewhere a little quieter?” he asked. 

Meleia hesitated. “The guards won’t let--”

Asra chuckled. “I think we can survive without them for a bit.” 

Meleia bit her lip, still doubtful. 

Asra held out his hand. “I can find us a little hideaway. No one will even miss us. Trust me.” 

Meleia stared at his hand for a long time. She knew she shouldn’t. She knew it was a stupid idea, and they might get in trouble. If nothing else, Portia probably wouldn’t be happy. 

But that smile... and the way he still, patiently, offered her his hand... 

_ Trust me. _

Somehow, Meleia did. 

Slowly, one arm still wrapped firmly around Forge, she took his hand. 

Asra grinned. He shot Muriel a significant look. For a split second, Muriel looked angry. But then he seemed to accept what his liege was about to do, and huffed out a little sigh. He gave a single nod. 

And Asra sprang into action. 

“Portia?” he said, smirk only widening. “I believe Her Majesty mentioned something about hydrangeas...?” 

Portia lit up. “Oh, of course! We’re actually pretty close by, just a couple more corners. It’s not exactly close to the center of the maze, but we could take a little detour if you’d like.” 

“A detour sounds perfect,” said Asra. 

Meleia had to bury her face in Forge’s fur to stifle a laugh. The poor fox was very confused: he hadn’t gotten this much attention in a while. 

“Sure!” Portia agreed. “The hydrangeas are actually in the darkest part of the maze, down that way. It used to be _ really _ overgrown, and kinda spooky, which honestly makes it the best place to go exploring, but we were trying to spruce things up for one of the Count’s parties and I thought...” 

She trailed off as she turned the corner. Muriel followed silently behind her, pausing only to give Asra a silent look that seemed utterly exasperated. Asra followed them for two steps, dragging Meleia along and letting Ludovico march at her side. Then Ludovico turned the corner, following Portia’s trail. 

“_ Now, _” Asra whispered. 

He turned on his heel and bolted in the opposite direction. Meleia stumbled along after him. 

Meleia had no idea where Asra was going. And she had the feeling Asra didn’t know where he was going, either. He took every twist and turn he could find, moving so quickly that Meleia was nearly dizzy. But she found she didn’t mind. The beautiful scenery rushed past like something out of a dream. And Asra was laughing. It was an uninhibited, unabashed, utterly joyful sound. And it was completely infectious. 

Before she even realized she was doing it, Meleia started laughing, too. Even the animals joined them, in their own way. Forge’s tail was wagging furiously. And Faust was swinging happily off of Asra’s arm, letting herself dangle as he ran. 

All the while, Meleia and Asra’s laughter rang in the air. 

Gods, when was the last time she’d had this much fun? 

Eventually, still giggling like mad, they found a beautiful clearing with an elegant fountain right in the center. The fountain was surrounded by willow trees, the branches framing it in an elegant, natural curtain. As one, Asra and Meleia slowed to a stop. Both were breathing heavily from running for so long, but they were both grinning like absolute idiots. 

“Think this is the center of the maze?” Meleia asked. 

Asra chuckled. “I have no idea. But it seems like a nice place to rest a bit.” 

Without further ado, he let go of Meleia’s hand and plopped himself right on the edge of the fountain. Faust uncurled herself from his arm and flopped unceremoniously down next to him. She stuck the end of her tail in the water and flicked it around, making little waves and ripples. Forge bounced free from Meleia’s grasp and leaped onto the fountain’s edge. He attacked the water with fervor, joining in his new friend’s game. Meleia laughed again. 

“Looks like they like it here, too,” Asra chuckled. 

“Don’t blame them,” said Meleia. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” 

On second glance, the trees must not have been willows at all. They looked just like them but they were laden with an impossible amount of fruit... and all different kinds, too. But the fountain was the real centerpiece. She stepped up to it as if in a trance. It was truly gorgeous: Two tiers, topped with a statue of a creature she recognized from what little she’d read of her folktale book, the fish-tailed hippocampus. The white stone practically gleamed in the fading sunlight. The water seemed to sparkle. 

Absently, Meleia took off one of her long gloves and reached out to the fountain’s waterfall-like spray. She trailed her hand in the water, sending rainbow droplets flying everywhere. Forge tried to stomp on them whenever they landed near him. That got Meleia giggling again. She shifted her hand a bit, sending more spray Forge’s way. Forge lept at it with glee. 

“I never thought of doing anything like that,” Asra laughed. “That’s really clever.” 

Meleia flushed. “It’s nothing, really...” 

“I bet Faust would like this game,” said Asra playfully. “She loves water.” 

He didn’t even bother to take off his own glove before he stuck his hand in the spray. He managed to hit Faust right in the back of the head. She jolted up, so startled that she almost fell right into the water. Asra burst out laughing. For a split second, Meleia was worried, but Faust didn’t seem to mind in the least. She actually lashed the end of her tail in the water much harder than before, splashing Asra in clear revenge. 

After that, it only took a few seconds for the quiet, peaceful moment to dissolve into an outright water war. Which, naturally, was the exact opposite of the little getaway that they had been looking for. But neither Meleia or Asra minded in the least. Their laughter was loud enough to startle a few birds, sending them flying out of the maze. 

In the back of her mind, Meleia knew that this was the least royal thing they could possibly be doing. That if anyone like Valerius had caught her, she would have been sent packing on the spot. That she really shouldn’t be wasting time when they had so many other, more important things to do. 

But at the moment, she didn’t care. 

Eventually, exhausted, Meleia all but collapsed onto the edge of the fountain. She was still giggling, despite breathing heavily from all the chaos. Asra somehow managed to find the breath to keep laughing, too. 

“Fun?” he asked. 

Meleia nodded. “That was... amazing.” 

“I don’t think I’ve had that much fun in years,” Asra chuckled. 

“Me, neither,” Meleia blurted out. 

She instantly flushed, her smile quickly fading. She had _ not _ meant to say that out loud. 

“Never a dull moment when you’re royalty,” Asra agreed. He hadn’t seemed to mind her outburst at all. 

“I guess not,” Meleia said slowly. 

She felt horrible about essentially lying to Asra. She knew it was for a good reason, and she knew that, technically, she hadn’t said anything wrong. Yet. But still... he’d shown her nothing but kindness since they had met. Even before she knew he was the Majestro. She didn’t deserve that kindness. Hiding everything from him seemed like a betrayal. 

Asra’s smile faded, replaced by pure concern. “Are you alright? I hope I didn’t offend you...”

“No!” Meleia said quickly. “No, I... I’m fine. Just... a little worn out.” 

Asra hardly looked convinced. But he didn’t press the matter. He simply let his gaze travel across the clearing. Faust settled herself on his lap, curling up like a pile of rope. Forge copied his new friend’s idea and plopped his head firmly on Meleia’s knee. Both Meleia and Asra absently started petting their animals at almost the same instant.

Meleia wasn’t sure how long the silence lasted. But despite her own conflicting feelings, the silence wasn’t awkward. Not even a little. That just made the whole thing even more confusing. 

It was Asra a who finally spoke. 

“Sunset,” he pointed out. “I’m sure they’ll find us soon. Somehow, I doubt Portia will allow us to be late for dinner.” 

Meleia managed a small smile. “Probably not.” She followed Asra’s gaze, looking at the sunset. “It’s really beautiful, though...” 

“Yes,” said Asra. “It is.” 

Something about his tone made Meleia look up. Asra wasn’t looking at the sunset. His eyes were firmly on her. And they sparkled in the sunset. With the half-smile that played across his lips, he looked like he was enchanted. Like he was watching the most wonderful mystery in the world unfold right before his eyes. 

Meleia silently prayed that the sunset was a good excuse for how red her cheeks were getting. She shifted nervously, bracing her hands against the lip of the fountain. One hand almost landed on Asra’s; her fingers accidentally brushed against his. Meleia tried to pull her hand back, but Asra gently caught her. She froze automatically, staring at him, wondering what he was about to do. 

He lifted her hand up a bit, inspecting it almost the same way Julian had checked her for injuries. His face fell. 

“You’re hurt,” he said. 

This time Meleia actually managed to yank her hand away. She tried to find her gloves, but they had gotten lost somewhere in the water fight. So she settled for trying to tuck her hands away in her lap. 

“N-no, I’m fine,” she stuttered. 

She didn’t fool Asra for an instant. “Are you sure? That looked like a lot of scars...” 

“Just some sewing accidents,” said Meleia. “They weren’t that deep anyway. I don’t even notice them anymore.” 

Meleia winced almost before the words were out of her mouth. She braced herself, expecting him to instantly figure it out, to realize that she wasn’t a princess. What princess would blurt out something so silly as _ sewing accidents? _

But once again, Asra’s response surprised her. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t stand up and walk away. He didn’t even give her a scathing look. Instead, he took off his own, soaking-wet glove. And he showed her a scar on his finger. 

“I got this the first time I tried to make my own candles,” he said with an apologetic sort of smile. “That was... a pretty spectacular failure.” 

Meleia giggled. 

“But it was nothing compared to my first attempt at making tea,” Asra went on, his smile growing. “My parents love telling that story.” 

Meleia’s smile faltered, despite her attempts to keep it together. “You’ll have to tell me sometime.” 

Asra’s face instantly fell. “I’m sorry. I made you homesick, didn’t I?” 

Meleia blinked. She was feeling a lot of things, but homesick wasn’t one of them. 

She shook her head. “No, not at all. It’s just...” she faltered, trying to find a way to explain without really lying... or without telling him everything. “I haven’t really spoken to my family in a long time.” 

“I see.” Asra looked downright sorrowful. “My parents are always busy, too.” 

Meleia instantly realized she’d said the wrong thing. She tried to backtrack. 

“But, really, I’m not homesick,” she insisted. “Honestly. Actually, this... this is the first time I’ve ever left home. It’s really exciting.” 

That, at least, was perfectly true. 

And just like that, Asra was smiling again. “I love traveling. I take any excuse I can just to get out of the castle. To find some time where I don’t need to be the Majestro. All that pomp, all those duties and formalities... it’s nice to get away from it for a while.” He flushed a bit. “Sorry. That sounded trite, didn’t it?” 

“No,” said Meleia. “It sounded perfect.” 

Asra looked startled. He let out a little laugh. “I’ve never actually been to Nevivon. What’s it like for you, back home?” 

Once again Meleia was forced to find a way to answer without really answering. She had no idea what Nevivon was like. But as for _ home... _

“Busy,” she said at length. “And a little lonely.” 

Asra’s gaze trailed away from her again. But, somehow, he didn’t seem to be looking at the garden, either. 

“I know the feeling,” said Asra. “I think the last time I managed to spend more than a few hours with my parents was when I was ten. Muriel has been the only one who ever stuck around with me for all that long. He’s essentially part of the family, now.” 

Meleia nodded. “I have someone like that back home, too. Her name’s Volta. She’s my...” She faltered. Coworker? Sister? Friend? None of those quite felt right. She didn’t know _ what _ to say about Volta. Eventually, she settled on: “She depends on me.” 

Asra’s expression turned almost wistful. “I suppose I depend on Muriel in a lot of ways, too. You know... I never thought I’d meet someone I had so much in common with all the way out here. Think about it,” he added at Meleia’s confused look. “We both loved the library. We both love making things. I make little trinkets and you sew...” 

“I wouldn’t exactly say I love sewing,” Meleia admitted. “I mean, I _ like _ doing it, but I’d much rather...” 

She trailed off. Asra’s eyes sparkled with that by now familiar mischief. 

“Oh?” he asked. “Much rather what?” 

Meleia shook her head. “It’s silly. I shouldn’t...” 

Asra playfully nudged her with his shoulder. “Come on. If you could do anything in the world, be anyone... what would you want to be?” 

Meleia sighed. “It’s... it’s not that simple.” 

There was a lot she wanted to be. But she knew it was impossible. She had so many things to take care of. So many people who needed her. Julian. Portia. Volta. She couldn’t let them down. She had to be what they needed her to be. 

She felt something gentle rest on her hand. She looked up, expecting Forge to have shifted around... but Forge was sound asleep. 

Meleia dared to glance down at her hand. And found Asra’s hand resting on top of it. He looked at her with wide, earnest eyes. 

“I know it isn’t,” he said softly. “But at least, tonight, we can pretend it can be.” 

He sounded like he really believed it. And maybe like he might have believed in her. 

Gods, what had Meleia done to earn a moment like this? 

She sighed. “Alright. If I could be anything in the world... I’d want to be a singer. Sometimes, whenever I have a moment, I go visit the docks and just stare at the water. Watch the ships go by. And I can almost picture the places they’re going to go. And I dream about being on those ships. And when we land, I can share my music with anyone who wants to listen. Maybe... maybe the songs that make me happy can make them smile, too.”

All of that was probably the most honest she had been since she arrived at the palace. The fact that she was thinking of the docks of Vesuvia instead of the docks of Nevivon didn’t change a thing just then. Still, once again, she found herself waiting for the fallout. And once again, it never came. Asra was grinning again. 

“You could,” he said eagerly. “You have a beautiful voice.” 

“Thanks,” Meleia mumbled. She quickly turned the attention away from herself. “What about you?” 

“Hmm?” said Asra. 

“I told you what I’d want to be,” said Meleia. “It’s your turn to tell me.” 

Asra chuckled. “I suppose that’s only fair. Well. I don’t think there’s one _ thing _ I want to be, but... well. It sounds a bit silly. Like something out of a bad play.” 

“Now I _ have _ to hear it,” Meleia laughed. 

Asra grinned. “I want to see the world. To go to far-off kingdoms, and see what they have to offer. To learn everything I can. Books and maps can only teach you so much.” 

“That doesn’t sound silly at all,” said Meleia earnestly. “I hope... I hope your dream comes true, someday.” 

Asra nodded. “Me, too. And I hope the same for you.” 

Meleia found she couldn’t meet Asra’s eyes anymore. So she ducked her head down, focusing instead on petting Forge’s ears. 

“When you come sing for Zadith, I hope I’ll be the first to know,” said Asra. “I would love to have you sing for us at the castle. And I would personally give you a tour of Zadith in return. I mean, we’d pay you, too, of course, it’s only fair, but... I’d be happy to show you around. What do you say?” 

He leaned over a bit and tilted his head, trying to catch her gaze again. He was smiling that eager, mischievous smile, the same one he’d had right before Meleia had taken his hand and they had dashed off to the fountain together. But this time, Meleia knew she couldn’t take up his offer. She couldn’t bring herself to answer. 

“Meleia?” said Asra softly. 

Meleia shook her head. “I can’t.” 

Asra pulled back, startled. “What? Meleia, what do you...?” 

“I _ can’t,_ Asra,” Meleia said again. The words poured out of her. “I don’t even know if I’ll ever go to Zadith. I can’t make a promise like that, not now, not when...”

She managed, just barely, to stop herself before she blurted out the entire plan. Before she told him what was really going on. But Asra noticed something was amiss. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you alright?” 

No. Gods, no, she wasn’t alright. There was so much going on in her heart and her head that she felt like she was going to burst. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. Her voice sounded strangled. “There’s just so much going on right now, and I don’t... I can’t...” 

Asra shook his head. “I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t mean to bring up anything bad. I never meant to hurt you.” 

“I know,” said Meleia. “I know, it’s not... it isn’t your fault. I...” 

She sighed, trailing off. She had no idea what to say. No idea where she should even _ begin. _

“Do you want to talk about it?” Asra asked. 

Just like he was a good friend. He was looking out for her. And there was no way Meleia could return the favor. No way she could make him feel any better. 

All she could do was shake her head again. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” said Asra. “You don’t have to tell me right away. Just remember that you can tell me anything, whenever you’re ready for it.” 

“I can’t,” Meleia said again. “Not this.” 

“Why not?” 

Meleia almost laughed. There were a million _ whys. _ But she only managed to say one of them. 

“You’ll hate me.” 

Once again the words fell out of her. The feeling just couldn’t be held back anymore. There were a lot of things that she didn’t want to happen. She didn’t want Lucio to get away with what he’d done to Damian. She didn’t want Damian to suffer any longer than he had to. She didn’t want Julian or Portia to get in any trouble. She didn’t want to let the Queen down. 

But the last thing she wanted was for Asra to hate her. Somehow, that felt like it would be the worst thing that could possibly happen. 

Asra hummed in thought again. “Are you secretly a monster that eats people?” 

Meleia blinked up at him. “No...?” 

“Or a thief who steals people’s hard work and takes all the credit?” Asra asked. 

“Definitely not,” said Meleia, thinking of both Valerius and Lucio. 

“What about a wanted snake-murderer?” Asra teased. 

“Not a chance,” Meleia laughed. 

“Then there’s no way I could hate you,” said Asra. 

He said it so simply, so honestly, that Meleia almost believed him. Almost. But she still couldn’t bring herself to say anything. Despite how badly a part of her wanted to. 

Asra seemed to understand. “You have a pretty big secret to hold on to, don’t you?” 

Meleia instantly turned white from surprise. “I, uh...” 

“It’s alright,” Asra assured her. “Some secrets are meant to be kept. But when you’re ready to share it... _ if _ you’re ever ready... I’m here to listen.” 

Meleia nodded. She tried to smile. But her heart felt fractured. 

She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him everything. But she knew that, if she did, she would lose everything.

But she felt like she had to say _ something._

“Asra?” 

“Mm-hmm?” 

“Do you...?” Meleia sighed and tried again. “Have you ever felt homesick for somewhere you’ve never been?” 

She instantly kicked herself again. What was _ that _ supposed to mean? 

But Asra nodded. “All the time. It’s something a bit more than just wanderlust, isn’t it?” 

“It’s like there’s something calling to you,” Meleia agreed. 

“And you just have to find the right way to answer,” said Asra, shooting her a smile. 

Meleia flushed. But she actually managed to smile in return. 

Asra seemed satisfied with that. He leaned back a bit, shifting into a more relaxed pose. And his hand wound up right near Meleia’s hip. Meleia wasn’t sure if she wanted to scoot away or put her hand on top of his the way he had done for her. She ended up not doing either of them. 

“I’m very glad I got the chance to meet you, Meleia,” said Asra. 

“Me, too,” said Meleia. “I mean, uh, I’m glad I got to meet you.” 

Asra chuckled. “Thanks. I guess we’ll have to thank Julian for getting our schedules mixed up, won’t we?” 

“We will,” Meleia agreed. She had a lot to thank Julian for. 

“I hope whatever he’s doing is going well,” said Asra. 

Meleia sighed. “Yeah. Me, too.” 

Again, that really didn’t seem to cover it. 

Before Meleia could figure out what to do next-- or even if she needed to do anything at all-- something rustled in the foliage off to their right. Meleia jumped. A pair of yellow eyes peered out of the maze. 

Meleia gasped. Asra’s eyes widened. He’d still been looking at her, so he hadn’t seen the eyes appear behind him. The instant he realized Meleia was startled he whirled around, one hand automatically thrown out almost protectively over her. The next instant, he laughed. 

“Inanna,” he chided. “Come out of there. You’re scaring her.” 

A large brownish wolf padded into the clearing. Meleia stared, utterly fascinated. She was a beautiful creature. And she moved so quietly that even Forge didn’t wake up. 

Faust had, though. She poked her head up and flicked her tongue at the wolf in a friendly sort of way. 

Asra scooped Faust up in one arm and got to his feet. “If Inanna’s found us, that means Muriel can’t be far behind.” 

Sure enough, Muriel stepped into the clearing only a moment later. He gave Asra a very pointed look. 

“Almost dinner,” he said.

“Were we missed?” Asra asked. “Portia wasn’t mad, was she?” 

Muriel shrugged. “She led that other guard somewhere. Said we would split up and look for you. I think she went the wrong way on purpose.” 

Meleia found herself staring again, and not just because that was the most talking she had ever heard Muriel do. 

Portia had led Ludovico _ away _ from the fountain? On _ purpose?_ But why? Had she overheard them talking about needing a break? Or was there some other reason? 

Asra laughed. “I think I like Portia.” 

Muriel grumbled. But the wolf, Inanna, was distinctly wagging her tail. She looked very entertained by this whole thing. 

Asra let Faust curl around his shoulders. Then he slipped his glove back on and straightened his clothes. 

“Still a bit damp,” he mused, “Looks like I’ll have to go make myself presentable before dinner, won’t I?” 

Muriel’s eyes narrowed. “What were you doing out here?” 

“Just relaxing a bit,” said Asra easily. 

Muriel sighed. Inanna’s tail wagged harder. Meleia giggled. 

“I suppose we’d better head back,” said Asra. He glanced at Meleia. “Are you coming with us?” 

Meleia shook her head. “I’ll wait for Portia.” 

Asra nodded. “Alright. See you at dinner.” 

“See you,” Meleia echoed. 

Asra gently took her hand again. And he placed a gentle, noble kiss right on her knuckles. 

Meleia thought she might faint right then and there. 

She found herself hugging Forge again as Asra, Muriel, and their animal companions disappeared into the maze. She watched them go for so long that Forge not only woke up, but looked all around, very confused at where Asra and Faust had gone. At last, Forge looked up at Meleia. But Meleia didn’t even notice. She was hardly even aware of Forge until he licked her chin. 

Meleia sighed. She went back to petting Forge’s ears. 

“Forge, what am I _ doing? _” she moaned. 

Forge cocked his head curiously. 

“Here I am, sitting in the garden, spending all my time talking...” Meleia let out another heartwrenching sigh. “Damian’s still missing. And no one’s heard from Julian. And I...”

Her breath caught in her throat. Forge pressed his nose against her hand. She went to pet him again, but her hands were shaking. 

“Forge,” she said slowly. “I think I’m falling in love with the Majestro.” 

Her voice was little more than a strangled whisper. Forge wagged his tail and happily batted his paws against her knee. Almost like he was celebrating. 

But Meleia didn’t remotely feel like celebrating. How could she let this happen? What if Julian and Damian never returned? And what was she going to do if they did? 

She had wanted to help. She _ still _ wanted to help. But somehow, she was just managing to make everything worse. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it obvious how much I love Asra? Because I love Asra SO MUCH.  
I re-worked this scene so many times. There was so much I wanted to fit in but it was just SO LONG. At one point I wanted to have a moment where they danced together at the fountain, just the two of them, but I couldn't fit it in no matter what I tried. So I guess that'll have to wait for some other day. Maybe.


	30. Like a Rat in a Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is far less fluff.

Oswald was having the absolute worst set of days in his life. 

And it just didn’t get any easier. 

First he’d fallen for such an obvious trap. Then he’d gotten Damian in trouble. He’d thought he had managed to help Damian escape, but they just got captured by _ another _ awful human. At least the nice girl had shared some fruit with him. And Damian had come up with another wonderful plan. Unfortunately, that plan meant that Oswald had to get all the way back to the palace on his own. As fast as he could. When he wasn’t really sure where he was in the first place. With a lot of less-than-friendly animals prowling around, looking for something like, oh, an unsuspecting, exhausted bat to mess with. Or possibly to make a meal out of. 

It didn’t help that Oswald felt miserable. He was tired, hungry, and more scared than he’d ever been. 

But Damian needed him. So Oswald had to succeed. 

The worst part was the wild dogs. There were a lot of them, especially as he got closer to the docks. He wasn’t even supposed to be _ near _ the docks, and he could never tell how he wound up there in the first place. 

Finding the palace was really hard. _ Annoyingly _ hard, considering that it was so big you could see it from nearly anywhere. 

But being able to see it and being able to reach it were completely different things. 

And Oswald had thought that dealing with _ Melchior _ was bad. He almost wished that stupid dog were here right now. At least then he would know he was in the right place. 

This was going to be a long trip. 

Every once in a while, exhaustion forced Oswald to stop. He would rest for a while, though he never truly slept. He traveled for long enough for the sun to rise. Being a bat, he wasn’t exactly fond of flying long distances during the day. But he didn’t exactly have much of a choice. Especially when the sunrise meant the humans were starting their days. And humans had a strange way of somehow both huddling together in huge crowds and all going different directions at once. 

Whenever they did that, they made an almost impenetrable maze for a single small bat. 

Getting through town was the most difficult part. Especially when some humans seemed very upset by the idea of a bat flying around during the day. They kept screaming at him and trying to swat him away. It was all he could do to stay in the air... and there were a few times when he nearly dislodged the shiny thing that Damian had pinned to his ribbon. 

Above all else, he _ had _ to get that shiny thing back to the palace. 

Damian was counting on him. He couldn’t fail here. He couldn’t let him down. 

_ Always help friend. _

This would all be a lot easier if his new friend Forge were here. The fox must have lived in the city. He would have known exactly where to go to avoid all the angry humans and stray dogs. 

As it was, he had to stop and start all the time, finding little nooks to hide in and wait until there was a clear moment to flutter on. Between dodging obstacles and all the much-needed little rests he was forced to take, it wasn’t until long after sunset that he finally reached the main palace gate. 

He wanted to collapse right then and there. He was technically done. People were always wandering around the grounds. One of them was sure to find him. And then they would find the shiny thing, and they would know where Damian was, and they would rush to his rescue. 

That, or one of the Count’s hounds would get to him, first... 

Oswald flew faster than before. 

Finding the Queen would be his best bet. It was almost night time now. She might be in her bedroom. Or in her little hideaway up in her favorite tower. She’d only let Damian in there a few times, so Oswald himself had only seen it once, but he thought he might be able to find it from the outside... 

Oswald was so exhausted that he didn’t so much fly up to the tower balconies as much as awkwardly hop from level to level. He bounced from the gate to the nearest rooftop to a spire to a window to anything else he could get his claws on. At last, he’d reached a balcony that overlooked the garden. Hopefully he was in the right place. 

He flapped down to the floor and sort of plopped there. He sat for a moment, looking around, trying to collect himself. 

He was so exhausted that he never saw Melchior coming. 

One second he was trying to figure out where to go next. The next instant he was pinned to the ground, wings splayed out. And Melchior was growling at him. 

_ Welcome back, little rat, _ Melchior snarled. 

Oswald didn’t even have the energy for a comeback. 

He heard the distinct sound of high heels against the stone balcony. A pair of boots stepped right in front of Oswald. A pair of shiny, black, incredibly clean boots. 

“Well, well,” sneered a familiar voice. “What have you caught for me, Melchior?” 

Melchior grabbed Oswald by the back of the neck, picking him up surprisingly gently. He sat, tail thudding against the floor, and showed off his prize. Oswald instantly started flapping around, trying to break free. But all it took was for Melchior to tighten his grip just slightly. Oswald instantly froze. Those teeth were _ sharp. _

The high-heeled boots came closer. And Count Lucio crouched down in front of Oswald. 

“Why, if it isn’t our local missing rodent!” Lucio flashed a smile just as deadly as his hound’s fangs. “Been getting into a little trouble, haven’t we?”

Oswald knew he couldn’t fight back. Not now. And definitely not against Melchior. But that didn’t stop him from screeching angrily at Lucio. Lucio simply scowled. 

“Complain all you want,” he snapped. “Your little master isn’t here to save you. You’re in _ my _ hands, now... and I never did like bats.” 

To add emphasis to his cold words, Lucio leaned in even closer. He glared directly at Oswald, expression brimming with malice and disgust. Oswald instantly balked. He wrapped his wings around himself, trying to look as small as possible. Melchior huffed, making his whole body tremble. Oswald could have sworn that Melchior was laughing. 

But he didn’t have much time to worry about that. Lucio started to pull back... but stopped short. His gaze had landed on the sparkly thing that hung on the ribbon around Oswald’s neck. 

“What’s this?” Lucio mused. “A gift from our dear prince?” 

Oswald didn’t care about Melchior’s jaws anymore. He started struggling again. He shrieked, he flapped his wings, he even tried to claw at Lucio with his feet. Anything to make sure that the villain didn’t get his grubby hands on the shiny thing.

“Oh, shut up,” Lucio said casually. “You’re lucky I still need to find the prince. Otherwise you’d be dog chow by now.” 

That got Oswald to stop moving pretty darn quickly. 

Smirking, Lucio unpinned the shiny thing and slipped it off the ribbon. The little note that Damian had left fluttered towards the ground. Lucio’s golden arm shot out. He snatched the note out of the air. He held it a good distance away, pouting like a child forced to pick up garbage. 

“Made exclusively by Lord Valerius?” he read aloud. “Looks like I need to pay a visit to my dear friend, doesn’t it?” 

Oswald had never felt such utter dismay in his entire life. He’d failed Damian. He’d ruined _ everything. _

Lucio straightened. He pinned the shiny thing to his own cape. Oswald thought it looked terrible, but he was hardly a good judge of what human decorations were supposed to look like, so that may have just been out of pure spite. Not that Lucio didn’t deserve all the spite he got. 

“Keep a good hold on him, Melchior,” Lucio commanded. “But don’t kill him just yet.” 

Melchior whined. The sound made Oswald shiver, and not only because he understood the _ Why not? _ Behind it. 

“I know, I know,” Lucio said consolingly. “You’ll get your treat soon. But we have to keep that little flying rat alive for now. Our dear Damian wouldn’t be too happy if he found his precious pet had met such an _ unfortunate _ fate. That is, _ if _ Valerius really _ does _ know where the--” 

Someone behind him cleared their throat. Lucio abruptly cut himself off. He whirled around, carefully stepping in front of Oswald and Melchior to block them from the newcomer’s view. 

“What do you want?” Lucio snapped. 

“Beg pardon, milord,” said the newcomer, who was probably one of the guards. “But there’s someone from the city here to see you. He says it’s urgent.” 

Lucio made a noise that was almost like a growl. “I thought I told everyone to tighten the security! You can’t just let any random no-account peasant just waltz in here and--”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the guard cut him off. “But he was very insistent.” 

“Who would dare come to see me in the middle of the night?” Lucio demanded. 

“Ah, forgive me, I thought I mentioned...” 

“Well, you didn’t!” Lucio spat. “_ Who is it? _” 

“It’s Lord Valerius, sir,” said the guard quickly. “He said he had something very important to tell you, and it couldn’t wait until--”

“Send him up here!” Lucio ordered. “And make it quick!” 

“Y-yes, sir!” the guard stuttered. “Right away!” 

Oswald heard the guard’s footsteps as he dashed away. Oswald tried to break free again. Now that horrible shop owner was getting involved in this again! He had to get out of here, he had to find some way to protect Damian... but Melchior tightened his grip again. Oswald froze, horribly afraid. Lucio wasn’t paying attention to them anymore. Which meant there wasn’t anything stopping Melchior from ignoring his master’s orders and finishing Oswald off then and there. 

So Oswald was forced to sit there, dangling helplessly in Melchior’s jaws, as Lucio started talking again. 

“_ There _ you are,” Lucio huffed. “What took you so long?” 

“Blame your incompetent guards,” someone scoffed. Oswald was sure it was that shopkeep Valerius. “If _ that’s _ your excuse for security, it’s no wonder your little _ friend _ stumbled into my grasp.” 

“So you _ do _ have him, then?” Lucio hissed. 

“He nearly broke my door down in the middle of the night,” said Valerius. “Since he escaped from what I’m sure must have been a very _ masterful _ setup on your end, I’m sure it’s no surprise that he suspects a coup.” 

“He always was too smart for his own good,” Lucio huffed. “Does he know who’s behind it?” 

Valerius let out a humorless laugh. “Doubtful. For a moment he believed it was my plan. I simply told him I agreed with it, but I didn’t take full credit. I know how much you love your moments in the limelight.” 

Lucio shifted, taking a step closer to Valerius. The movement was dangerous, almost predatory. 

“You don’t mean you _ told _him it was--”

“Oh, please, Lucio,” Valerius scoffed. “I’m hardly as stupid as the type of help you _ usually _ aquire.” 

“Then I’m sure you’re smart enough to keep your head down for a little while,” said Lucio coolly. “Looks like I’m going to have to pay a little visit to your shop. And I can’t exactly have you hanging around while I make my dramatic rescue.” 

“Of course,” said Valerius. “I suppose there are a few places I might like to visit... gods know I deserve a break. Ever since that palace servant stole Meleia from me, it’s been nothing but work, work, work...” 

Lucio’s entire body stiffened. 

“Did you just say _ Meleia? _” He said each word slowly, spitting them out through clenched teeth. 

“Naturally,” Valerius replied. He didn’t sound remotely concerned. 

“Someone named Meleia works at your shop?” said Lucio. 

“My stitching girl,” Valerius confirmed. “Foolish and stubborn and sickeningly loyal to those who don’t deserve any loyalty whatsoever, but she does get the job done. Occasionally.” 

“Black hair?” Lucio prompted. “Obnoxious freckles? Even more annoying singing voice?” 

“That’s her,” Valerius huffed. “I’m not surprised you’ve heard her foolish songs. She never could shut up inside the shop. I’ll bet she’s traipsing around the palace right now, wasting everyone’s precious time with her so-called performances. Perhaps I’ll simply have to drag her back to the shop myself...”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” said Lucio. His cruel, almost triumphant tone made Oswald shudder again. “I’ll take care of _ your _ Meleia _ personally _.” 

Oswald started to panic. Now Meleia, Forge’s human, was in just as much trouble as Damian. Maybe even _ more _ trouble. After all, it sounded like Lucio needed Damian alive... and Oswald didn’t think the count had any reason to let Meleia live. 

“See that you do,” Valerius said coldly. “Now, then. If you insist on visiting my shop at this hour, I’m afraid I won’t be there. I have an errand to run, and it may take quite a while. Until morning, perhaps.” 

“Perfect,” said Lucio. He was practically bouncing with glee. “I knew I could count on you, Valerius.” 

“Of course,” said Valerius. “And Lucio?” 

“What?” 

“Do try to avoid breaking my door down,” Valerius said, sounding very much like he’d requested this before. “Consider it a personal favor.” 

Lucio waved his concern away, though the way his golden arm gleamed dangerously rather ruined the effect. “Sure, whatever you say.” 

Valerius huffed at that, but didn’t say more. The conversation seemed to be over. Judging by the footsteps, Valerius must have left. Lucio lingered on the balcony for a moment. Then, abruptly, he whirled around and snatched Oswald right out of Melchior’s jaws. Oswald let out a little squeak of surprise. He tried to struggle again, but with his wings pinned firmly to his side, there was even less he could do than before. In Lucio’s crushing grip, he could barely even get enough air to screech. 

That didn’t stop him from trying to screech anyway. 

“You’ll never learn to be quiet, will you?” Lucio snapped. He was striding down the hallway, going far faster than Oswald had ever seen him move. “You should be grateful. I’m taking you back to your master. Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

At this point, it was the exact opposite of what Oswald wanted. He tried to make that opinion known. 

“Quiet, you little rat!” Lucio snarled. 

He put Oswald right up to his face and glared directly at him. Oswald reared back, startled. Lucio smirked. 

“That’s better,” he hissed. “Now get comfy. This is going to be a long ride.” 

It was only when Lucio stepped up to one of his white horses that Oswald realized they were even in the stables. And this horse, whom Oswald had never bothered to introduce himself to, was already saddled and prepared for a journey. 

Lucio didn’t even stop to pet his steed the way Damian always did. He simply flicked open the saddlebag and shoved Oswald inside. Oswald squeaked in protest. Of course, Lucio paid no mind. Oswald heard the soft, subtle sounds of the saddlebag snapping closed. He heard the far louder sounds of Lucio yelling some more. Then the saddlebag lurched, jolting up and down. And with each jolt came the clatter of hooves. 

They were already on the move. Lucio was headed right for Damian. 

If bats could cry, Oswald certainly would have. He wanted so desperately to help his friend. To save Damian. But there was absolutely nothing he could do. 

Damian was in even bigger trouble than before. And it was all his fault.


	31. Collapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things go even further south.

“There.” Damian leaned back with a slight sigh. He held up the jacket he had just finished, inspecting his work. “Done. How does it look?” 

He showed off his handiwork to Volta. Volta nibbled nervously at her nails. 

“Um...” she mumbled. 

Damian heaved a much longer sigh. “That bad?” 

“No, no!” Volta tittered. “It... it is certainly a coat!” 

Damian managed a weak smile. “Well, at least I made something recognizable this time. That’s an improvement, right?” 

“Oh, yes,” Volta said, nodding frantically. “Perhaps the prince can even fix it himself this time!” 

“That would be wonderful.” Damian put the supposed jacket back down on the sewing table. “I would hate to make you re-sew  _ another _ one of my, ah,  _ creations _ .” 

He pulled a face, thinking of all of his horrible sewing mishaps. It was frustrating, of course, but it was almost funny in a way. He could help run an entire kingdom, he could make medicines and ominous goop and fast-growing crystals, he could even train a bat to carry a message all the way home... but he couldn’t put together a simple tunic. Which only made him all the more determined to learn. 

Volta glanced at the scraps of fabric that were left over from her own heroic attempts to salvage Damian’s disastrous excuses for clothes. She tried to hide her giggle behind her hand. Damian smiled back at her. 

“So,” he said, “how do I fix it?” 

“It is not a big mistake,” said Volta, probably trying to make him feel better. “You have simply forgotten to turn one sleeve rightside-in.” 

Damian looked at the coat. Sure enough, the right sleeve was inside out. And it was distinctly longer than the left sleeve. 

Damian buried his face in his hands. That wasn’t as much of a failure as his previous attempts had been, but it was still pretty spectacular. How had he managed to forget something so simple as turning the sleeve out? And why,  _ why _ did sleeves constantly come back to haunt him? He was beginning to be convinced that he had some sort of sleeve-related curse, especially when it came to sewing. 

Volta gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Damian’s smile was more genuine this time. He sat up straight, put his shoulders back, and set to work undoing his stitching. 

This was far from the first time he’d needed to completely redo his work. But at the very least it kept him somewhat occupied. It helped keep his mind off of what might be happening to Oswald. 

Oswald had been gone for a long time. Damian tried not to let that bother him. He knew it would take a while for a little bat to reach the palace. He just had to believe that Oswald would make it. There wasn’t much else Damian  _ could _ do at the moment, besides try in vain to sew. 

At least now he didn’t have to listen to Valerius loudly schmoozing with his customers while he struggled through Volta’s insane workload. Apparently, having captured the prince of Vesuvia himself had done nothing to stop Valerius from “earning” some more money. Nor did it give Valerius any reason to stop moping about how “short-handed” he was. Though that may have just been an excuse to never open the door to the backroom. To make sure he didn’t ever give Damian a chance to escape. 

So Damian had helped out wherever he could. And Volta had been very kind to him in return. She’d shared her food with him, despite barely even having enough for herself. And she never got discouraged by Damian’s extreme lack of sewing skills. 

“You are very, very kind, Your Highness,” Volta piped up. 

Damian looked up from his work. “What do you mean?” 

“You do not need to be doing this,” said Volta. “I am used to such long, long work. But you are the prince! You should not worry about such a small problem...”

“It’s not a small problem,” said Damian firmly. “Not to you. I can’t just leave you to do this on your own, you know that.” 

Volta ducked her head, distinctly embarrassed. But she was smiling nonetheless. 

That grateful smile made Damian feel very proud of what he had done. Even if he had been delegated to cutting duty for most of the day, he’d managed to help out. If only a bit. He was glad he got a bit of a chance to do... well,  _ anything _ for his kingdom. 

“Alright.” Damian picked up a needle. “So how do I--?”

_ BAM. _

Something slammed against the door. Volta jumped so violently that she fell off of her stool. Damian shot to his feet. He snatched the largest pair of sewing scissors he could find and held them in front of him like a sword. 

The door shook violently again. And again. Damian slid slowly forward, putting himself between the door and Volta. 

Then, with a final sickening  _ crack, _ the door slammed open. 

“Your Highness!” 

Damian gasped. He’d never imagined he would be  _ relieved _ to hear that voice. 

“Lucio?” he cried, surprised. 

Volta hadn’t even gotten herself up off the floor before Lucio strode in. He looked as obnoxiously immaculate as always: his white-and-red cloak billowed out behind him, his hair was perfectly slicked back, and there wasn’t even a speck of dirt on his golden arm despite the fact that he had just used it to punch down a door.

“ _ There _ you are!” Lucio cried. “We’ve been looking absolutely  _ everywhere _ for you!” 

“You got my note, then?” Damian asked. He hadn’t lowered the scissors yet. “Oswald made it?” 

“Yes, yes, your little friend led us right to you,” said Lucio flippantly. “Now come with me. We have to get going.” 

He held out his hand. Damian didn’t move. 

“Where’s Oswald?” said Damian. He knew that Oswald would have wanted to see him... and he desperately wanted to see Oswald. 

For a split second, Lucio scowled. But he quickly switched over to a gleaming smile. 

“He’s in my saddle bag,” said Lucio. “Resting. Poor thing was completely exhausted.” 

Damian’s eyes narrowed. That didn’t sound much like Oswald. 

But Lucio  _ had _ saved him. And he  _ did _ need to get back to the palace before anything  _ else _ went wrong. Especially since he had no idea where Valerius had gotten to... for all Damian knew, he could have been meeting up with those two kidnappers and starting up their plot to overthrow the queen. 

As much as he hated Lucio, Damian needed all the help he could get. 

“Lucio, listen,” Damian said quickly. “There’s a plot against the Queen. Valerius is in on it, he--” 

“You can tell me all about it on the way,” Lucio cut him off. He grabbed Damian’s arm and started all but dragging him out of the shop. “We need to move. Now.” 

Damian’s gaze trailed back to Volta, who was now cowering behind her stool. He tried to pull back. 

“Wait, we can’t just leave her here with--”

“Oh, we’ll come back for her,” said Lucio, though his tone was far from reassuring. “But we have other things to worry about first, don’t we?” 

“I know, but--”

“We have to hurry, Your Highness!” Lucio snapped, once again refusing to let Damian get a word out. “Your tutor needs you.”

Damian froze. His heart shot to his throat. 

“ _ Julian? _ ” he gasped. “He’s in trouble? What’s wrong? What happened?” 

“No time to explain!” Lucio said quickly. “We must move! Now!” 

Damian hesitated for a split second longer. He glanced back at Volta once more. She still looked so frightened. She didn’t deserve to be left here, with Valerius bound to return. No one did. 

But Julian was in danger. Julian  _ needed _ him. 

“Alright,” he relented. “Let’s go.” 

Lucio flashed another grin. “Excellent. Your chariot awaits, your highness.”

Lucio swept out the doorway, stepping over the shrapnel he’d left in his wake. Damian shot one last glance back at Volta. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said firmly. “I promise.” 

Volta managed a wobbly sort of nod. 

Damian didn’t waste any more time. He dashed after Lucio. Sure enough, a small carriage was parked right in front of the shop door, hitched up one of Lucio’s signature white horses. Damian dove to the saddlebag and nearly ripped it in his haste to get it open. The instant the clasp was undone, Oswald shot out of the bag. He flew right at Damian’s face, screeching frantically. 

“Woah, it’s okay!” Damian cried. “I’m alright! You did it, you made it!” 

But despite all Damian’s attempts to calm him down, Oswald kept shrieking. It was almost insistent, like he were trying desperately to tell Damian something. 

“What’s wrong?” Damian asked. 

Of course, though Oswald kept flapping around and making more noise than Damian had ever heard him make, Damian had absolutely no clue what was going on. 

“Highness!” Lucio’s voice cut through Oswald’s cries. “We need to go!” 

“Right.” Damian quickly situated Oswald on his shoulder and all but leapt into the driver’s seat, right next to Lucio. Getting himself settled into the carriage itself would have taken too long. 

They were off like a shot. If nothing else, Lucio certainly knew how to train animals. His steed moved faster than Damian would have thought possible. 

But at the moment, Damian had other things to worry about. 

“Where’s Julian?” Damian asked “You said he was in trouble...?” 

“He’s at the mines,” said Lucio. “He was looking for you, and he was helplessly trapped...” 

“And you didn’t think to help him?” Damian snapped. 

“Why, we were going to send someone, of course,” said Lucio, sounding affronted. “But the note from your...  _ darling _ bat got to me first. And I thought you would be able to figure out how to reach him. You always were quite clever.” 

Oswald snuggled closer to Damian’s cheek. He was glaring at the count as though he had been personally attacked. 

Damian absently patted Oswald’s head. Things weren’t adding up. Lucio had never asked him for help before. And he had never given up the chance to delegate a job before. Even if Lucio had been the one to find the note-- which alone was pretty unlikely considering how badly Oswald got along with Lucio’s hounds-- Lucio wasn’t the type to go rushing off at night on his own. Not to any place that involved him doing palace work, at any rate. 

But if Julian really were in trouble... Damian couldn’t abandon him. He  _ wouldn’t _ . 

It didn’t take them much longer to reach the mines. Despite the fact that Damian knew the mines had been shut down fairly recently, they looked like they had been abandoned for a long time. The entrances to the caves were already starting to get overgrown with weeds. Lucio called the horse to a halt and strode right up to the entrance as though he owned the place. 

“This way,” he urged. “Quickly!” 

On any other day, Damian would have questioned this whole thing much more. He would have wondered how Lucio could possibly know exactly where Damian was. He would have asked how Julian had gotten to the mines in the first place. He even would have spent longer worrying about what made Oswald so upset. 

But he was exhausted, and hungry, and desperate. And if Julian was in trouble, nothing else seemed to matter. 

So he gently took Oswald off of his shoulder and let the bat settle on the driver’s seat of the carriage. 

“Stay here,” he said gently. “Get some rest. I’ll be right back.” 

Oswald did not look happy about that. But the bat settled in, tucking his wings around him. 

Damian gave Oswald one last smile. Then he allowed Lucio to lead him down into the mines. 

He followed the Count down endless twists and turns, going deeper and deeper. At least, he followed for a while. Then Damian’s desperation got the better of him. He took the lead, dashing ahead of Lucio. He pounded through the mines, calling Julian’s name. 

There was no answer. 

With every moment of silence, Damian’s fear grew. 

At last, they reached a dead end: an old door that looked rusted shut. Damian froze, breathing heavily. He didn’t want to give up, he  _ wouldn’t _ give up, but he didn’t know where else to turn. Lucio stepped in, then, and once again showed his mastery at nearly ripping doors off their hinges. 

Damian dashed inside... and instantly froze in panic. 

There was Julian, tossed haphazardly on the floor like a rag doll. His arms were bound behind his back. A gag had been shoved in his mouth. And he was staring at Damian with wide, desperate eyes. 

“ _ Julian! _ ” 

Damian didn’t so much as think. He dashed forward and instantly started to undo the ropes around Julian’s wrists. Julian tried to talk to him, eyes wide with fear, but his cries were hopelessly muffled. 

“It’s alright,” Damian said breathlessly. “I’ll get you out.” 

The instant Julian’s wrists were untied he ripped the gag off. 

“Damian, no!” he cried. He grabbed Damian’s shoulders. “You have to get out of here! Lucio’s--”

He stopped short, eyes going even wider than before. Damian whirled around. 

Lucio was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, a triumphant smirk on his face. And he was flanked by two others... people who Damian recognized in an instant. 

“Nice to see you again,  _ Your Highness, _ ” Vulgora sneered. 

“Welcome to our little hideaway!” Vlastomil giggled. 

Damian’s eyes narrowed. Red hot fury pulsed through his veins. He glared at Lucio, his eyes burning with hate. 

“ _ You, _ ” he spat. “ _ You’re _ behind this.” 

“Oh, bravo,” said Lucio sarcastically. “Well done. You’ve finally figured it out.”

His cohorts laughed cruelly. Vulgora especially seemed to be enjoying this. 

Damian didn’t waste his breath on a response. He refused to give them the satisfaction. He simply let Julian use his arm to pull himself to his feet. 

“I thought you would be more clever than that,” Lucio drawled. “After all, you were pretty smart to find that phony princess to keep the Queen busy. Unfortunately for you, I have eyes and ears everywhere.” 

Damian’s hands clenched into fists. Meleia had gone to the palace to help him. She may have even known that Lucio was the culprit. And now she was in danger... if something horrible hadn’t happened to her already. 

“What have you done to Meleia?” Damian demanded.

“Nothing,” said Lucio flippantly. “Yet. But we can’t have a princess pretender traipsing around the palace, now can we?” 

Only the fact that Julian was still clinging to his shoulder stopped him from rushing at Lucio and trying to deck him in the face. Which was probably a good thing, because Vulgora would likely have murdered him before he even got close. 

“ _ Why? _ ” Damian shouted. “Why are you  _ doing _ this?” 

“Why else?” Lucio chuckled. “To get the power that I so rightfully deserve.” 

“ _ He’s _ going to be king!” Vulgora bragged. “And when he gets what he wants...” They clenched their gauntleted fist, grinning cruelly. “ _ We _ get what  _ we _ want.” 

“King?” Damian scoffed. “You? Impossible.” 

“I do admit, I will have to change my plan a bit,” said Lucio, completely unfazed. “At first, I was going to marry you.” 

Damian was so shocked and disgusted by this thought that he didn’t even know how to react. For a moment, he thought he might vomit. 

“You’re insane,” Julian hissed. 

“Perhaps I was,” said Lucio, once again not remotely bothered. “It was a bit of a long shot, wasn’t it? I thought my charms and daring heroics would win him over...” 

“Not on your life,” Damian spat through clenched teeth. 

Lucio shrugged. “Your loss.” 

Damian lurched forward again, ready to throttle Lucio. Again, Julian wasn’t about to let him get himself killed. 

“Now, our dear Noddy, on the other hand...” Lucio chuckled. “The two of us get along splendidly. And she is a handsome woman, isn’t she? She’ll look radiant in a wedding gown.” 

Damian’s glare could have murdered Lucio on the spot. 

“She’d  _ never _ stoop so low as to marry  _ you _ ,” he spat. 

“She won’t have much of a choice,” said Lucio. “Not with the fate of the kingdom on the line.” 

“What are you talking about?” Damian demanded. 

“Still underestimating me, are we?” Lucio barked out a harsh laugh. “Come on. You both know the Majestro can’t stick around forever. And the Queen... well. She’ll be so distraught when she finds out her darling prince was killed in a horrible, tragic  _ accident _ .” 

Julian’s grip tightened on Damian’s shoulder. “She’ll never give up on him. She won’t stop looking until Damian is found.” 

“Oh, she will,” said Lucio. “As soon as she sees  _ this. _ ” 

He unfastened something from the back of his cloak and showed it off. 

Damian stiffened. The brooch. The gift from the Majestro. 

Lucio mockingly raised an eyebrow. Then he tucked the brooch back under the collar of his cloak and snapped his fingers. 

“You know what to do,” he told his cohorts. 

Grinning maliciously, Vulgora and Vlastomil slunk off into the caverns. 

“You’ll never get away with this,” Damian hissed. 

Lucio sneered. “Won’t I?” 

The caverns echoed with the horrible clash of metal on stone. And the ceiling rumbled ominously. 

“I believe that’s my cue,” said Lucio. He flashed his captives one last grin. “Checkmate, boys. I win.” 

With a whirl of his cape, he was gone. The heavy metal door slammed shut behind him. 

Damian broke free from Julian’s grasp and, for the third time in way too short a time span, threw himself at a heavy, seemingly impenetrable door. But this time he actually managed to get through it. Lucio hadn’t bothered to lock it. Why would he, when the whole cave was about to come down? 

Damian didn’t even notice the cracks forming in the ceiling. He was too intent on catching up to Lucio. 

“Damian, no!” 

Julian rushed forward and yanked Damian back. Damian instantly started struggling. But Julian hooked his arms under Damian’s shoulders, practically grappling him. 

“We have to stop him!” he yelled. 

“You’ll be crushed!” Julian argued. 

At that moment, Damian didn’t care. He tried to writhe out of Juilan’s grip. He was screaming, calling Lucio every filthy name he could think of. But Julian hauled him out of the way. And not a moment too soon. 

Distantly, he heard Lucio and the others shouting as they fled. 

And then the world shuddered around them. 

Both Damian and Julian hit the ground in a tangled heap. Dust and dirt rained down from the ceiling. Damian threw his arms protectively over his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt Julian’s grip around him tighten as Julian shielded him with his own form. And then the world was nothing but the ear-shattering cacophony of splintering wood and shattering glass and crumbling stone. 

Damian would never know how long the chaos lasted. But, at last, everything grew still. 

They stayed there, frozen, for a full ten seconds. Then the silence grew far too deafening. And Damian slowly tried to ease himself upwards. 

He took in the scene. What had once been a doorway was now little more than a giant pile of boulders. The first thing he realized was the sickening thought that he would have been caught under all that rubble and surely crushed if Julian hadn’t grabbed him. The second thing he realized frightened him even more. 

Lucio and the others had caused a cave in. Damian and Julian were completely trapped. 

Julian quickly scrambled off of him. “Damian! Are you alright? What are you doing here? Did Lucio... he didn’t hurt you, did he?” 

“I’m fine, Julian,” said Damian quickly. 

He wasn’t fine. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But at least he wasn’t physically hurt. His eyes trailed to the marks on Julian’s wrists where the rope had cut into them. 

“What about you?” Damian asked. 

“Well, I’m still alive,” said Julian, forcing a shadow of his usual grin. “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.” 

“You say that like I ever wanted to get rid of you in the first place,” said Damian. “But you’re not the one who got caught three times in a row...” 

“Damian...” 

“It doesn’t matter.” A bit of bite had returned to Damian’s voice. “We can’t let Lucio get away with this.” 

He got to his feet and squinted in the now much darker cavern. Most of the lanterns had fallen from their hooks and shattered. But, miraculously, one light still remained. It wasn’t much to go by, but at least Damian wasn’t left completely blind. 

“Damian?” said Julian slowly. “What are you...?” 

Damian didn’t reply. He’d found what he was looking for. A single pickax lay abandoned on the ground. It was old, and as rusted as the door had been. Damian picked it up anyway. He gave it an experimental swing. It seemed sturdy enough. 

It would have to be. 

“Uh, Damian?” Julian called. 

Once again, Damian ignored him. He wasn’t going to sit there and do nothing. He wasn’t going to let Julian or Meleia or Nadia or anyone else suffer anymore. 

He was going to get them out. Even if it was the last thing he ever did. 

He strode over to the massive wall of fallen rock. He heaved the pickax over his head. And with a wordless scream, a cry that held all of his frustration and anger and desperation and pain, he brought it swinging down.


	32. Secrets and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things continue to spiral down.

After Asra left the gardens, Meleia wasn’t left alone for very long. It only took Portia a few minutes to find her. Meleia had the feeling that Portia had known where the two had vanished to all along. The way she kept smirking at Meleia only confirmed that idea. But, of course, she had to put on a show of making a fuss. 

“Next time,  _ tell _ us when you want some quiet,” said Portia in a mock-serious voice. “Ludovico and I were really worried!” 

Portia didn’t sound worried in the slightest. The guard, on the other hand, looked positively harried. So Meleia turned to him when she replied. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It won’t happen again. I promise.” 

Her tone was absolutely certain. She was sure this was a promise she would be able to keep. She doubted she’d ever get to steal another moment with Asra. 

The thought made her feel hollow. It had been absolutely wonderful, spending time with him... 

No. She shouldn’t be thinking about that. No point in getting herself all worked up over something that was never meant to happen in the first place.

Dinner that night was a rather quiet affair. For one thing, Asra showed up a bit late. He had apparently gone to freshen up, which Meleia wished she had gotten the chance to do. But even when Asra joined them, there was still far less excitement than Meleia had expected. It certainly helped that Lucio didn’t join them. Though Lucio’s distinct absence made Meleia nervous. What was the Count up to  _ now _ ? He’d always been so insistent on attending meals before... 

She wished she had some sort of distraction. Something else to think about, besides how easily everything could go horribly wrong. But even Nadia and Asra were quiet. Both seemed lost in their own thoughts. 

The only ones who were making much noise at all were Faust and Forge. The pair had decided that the space under the vast dining hall table was their new playground. They romped around, Forge squeaking in sheer joy, Faust occasionally making little noises that Meleia honestly hadn’t known snakes could make. Every once in a while either a snake head or a pair of fox ears would pop out from under the table and look up at Meleia beseechingly, looking for treats. She would sneak them a few morsels whenever she could. And she couldn’t help but notice that Asra did the same, though much more subtly. He even let his napkin dangle halfway off his lap so Forge could bat it around. 

On any other day, she would have been grinning at their antics, or following Asra’s lead and adding her own napkin to the mix. But she had far too much on her mind. She didn’t even know if she could meet Asra’s eye, despite how often he shot her a smile. She wasn’t sure how often she managed to smile in return. 

At last, before she completely dissolved in her own worry, she valiantly attempted to start up a conversation with Ludovico. The guard had been keeping a silent vigil over the dinner, and he seemed surprised to be addressed. But, eventually, he caved. They chatted about the garden, about Vesuvia in general, about anything that Meleia could think might take her mind off things. To her surprise, Asra happily joined in the conversation as well. Which was a good thing, since Meleia very quickly ran out of things to say. It was like Asra was there to fill in the blanks. To pick up wherever Meleia left off. Somehow, talking with Asra was never a challenge. 

That thought made Meleia lose her appetite pretty quickly. 

She would really miss him when this was all over. But, of course, she didn’t deserve to spend time with someone like him. Not now. Not ever. 

Nadia swept to her feet the instant her plate was cleared. She looked exhausted, but, somehow, she still managed to stand tall and proud. 

“I believe I will have to leave you two to finish our discussions from earlier,” said Nadia. “I think I shall speak with the guards to see if they have made any headway on our...  _ other _ predicament.” 

Meleia fell completely silent. The air felt heavier. Everyone in the room knew what she meant. 

“We’ll help in any way we can,” said Asra, eyes full of concern. 

Nadia managed a smile. “I am sure you would. At the moment, dealing with the details would be the most helpful thing you could do for me.” 

“Leave it to us,” said Meleia. 

“Of course,” said Nadia, her smile widening just a bit. “I am glad to have such a capable pair by my side.” 

Meleia quickly took a sip of her drink in a vain attempt to hide her blush. 

“Like Meleia said,” Asra shot her that glorious, mischievous grin of his, “leave it to us.” 

Nadia actually looked proud of them. “Excellent. We will meet up in the ballroom in two hours. I will send Portia to collect you.” 

With that, it seemed everything was settled. Asra and Meleia finished up their meal and headed back to the library, where they both poured over books and maps and old trade records in comfortable silence. Forge and Faust curled up by the window, soaking in the starlight. Occasionally Asra would break the silence with a question or something funny he had found, and Meleia always had a reply. They really did make a good team. 

For the next two hours, Meleia was so focused on her work, on helping the Queen, that she barely even noticed that she felt whole once again. That working with Asra was absolutely perfect. 

Then Portia came to fetch them. And she looked nearly as exhausted as the Queen had. That put a damper on Meleia’s spirits very quickly. But she tried to keep up a smile as she and Asra scooped up their animals and Portia led them back to the throne room. 

Her fake smile didn’t fool Asra for a moment. He stepped right up to her side, so close they were nearly brushing shoulders. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. 

Meleia couldn’t answer. 

The look on Asra’s face could have rivaled a sad puppy. “Did I say something wrong?” 

“No!” Meleia said quickly. “No, you... you were perfect I should... I really have to thank you.”

“For what?” asked Asra.

It took Meleia a moment to figure out what to say. Eventually, she settled on: “For all your help.” 

Asra nudged her playfully. “You were pretty helpful yourself.” 

Meleia flushed. “Thanks.” 

At that point, they had reached the ballroom. Nadia was waiting for them. The moment she spotted the pair standing so close to one another, she raised a delicate eyebrow. Her smile was closer to a smirk than anything else. 

“I take it the negotiations went well?” said Nadia smoothly. 

Meleia turned even redder than before. She ducked her head, trying to hide behind her curls. She knew the Queen was on their side, and she admired Nadia’s intuition and skill in polite conversation very much, but Meleia wished that Nadia wouldn’t insist on making things more difficult for her. 

If Asra noticed anything wrong, he gave no sign. He only chuckled. 

“Absolutely, Your Majesty,” said Asra, his tone just as smooth as the Queen’s. “Zadith has just the right resources to help both Vesuvia  _ and _ Nevivon... and I believe Nevivon will be quite happy to join our trade route agreements. Right, Meleia?” 

Meleia automatically straightened up. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Asra. She stared in Nadia’s general direction instead. 

“Yes,” she said as graciously as she could. “Traders from all over the world stop by the Nevivon ports. Asra has so many great ideas about organizing everything. I think it would help everyone involved if we followed his guidelines.” 

Asra laughed. “I’m not so sure about that... I’m not exactly the most organized person.” 

“You’re better off than I am,” said Meleia, smiling almost despite herself. 

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Asra fired back. 

Meleia tried to hide behind her hair again. Asra just chuckled once more. Since Meleia was staring rather determinedly at the floor, she saw Forge and Faust exchange a very significant look. She could have sworn the two animals were laughing at her, too. 

“It seems we have quite a bit to discuss,” said Nadia, her smile, posture, and tone all radiating amusement. “I would be happy to see these outlines of yours, Majestro.” 

Asra shifted his weight. Meleia looked up at him, surprised. She’d never seen him so visibly nervous before. 

“Shouldn’t we wait until Prince Damian returns?” Asra asked. “I have a lot to discuss with him, as well.” 

Meleia’s gaze traveled back to her shoes. There was an odd sort of twist in her stomach, almost like she were ill. 

Once again, she had been violently reminded of Damian and Asra’s upcoming wedding. The wedding that was supposed to happen  _ soon. _ If Julian didn’t find Damian... Meleia couldn’t even imagine what would happen. She didn’t  _ want _ to think about it. She could only hope that Julian was on his way back. That they were both safe.

But they still had no real idea what Lucio was up to. And Meleia hadn’t heard any news since Julian had slipped out what felt like a lifetime ago. Either Damian was being kept somewhere farther away than anyone had thought... or something had happened. Something  _ bad. _

And if something  _ had _ gone wrong, Meleia couldn’t do anything to help. She could only stay here, play her role, and hope that everything worked out. 

She didn’t like that idea very much. But what else could she do? 

“Princess Meleia? Is everything alright?” 

Meleia’s head jerked up again. Nadia’s voice had forced her out of her thoughts. 

“Y-yes,” Meleia stuttered. 

Nadia didn’t say anything. But the look on the Queen’s face, though not unkind, was enough to urge Meleia to speak once more. 

“I... admit I’m a little worried about D-- about the Prince,” said Meleia awkwardly. 

“I didn’t know you were friends with Prince Damian,” said Asra. 

Meleia tried to come up with a reply for that. Her mind went utterly blank. Thankfully, Nadia stepped in. 

“Damian has been exchanging letters with Meleia for some time now,” said Nadia. “It’s only natural that they should have formed some sort of camaraderie.” 

Asra nodded, smiling. “Of course. I only hope we all get to see each other again. I didn’t get much chance to talk to him, but I enjoyed the dinner we had together.”

“I believe Damian enjoyed it as well,” said Nadia almost wistfully. “It’s a shame that you met while under your Ambassador guise... I’m sure he would have been quite surprised to find out who you truly are.” 

“Probably,” Asra agreed with a laugh. “You were surprised yourself. And Meleia was definitely shocked.” 

He turned to face Meleia. He gave her the same sweet smile he’d had back in the garden. The smile that made Meleia’s heart do that funny little flip. 

Nadia laughed. “Well, it certainly seems everything else is going  _ very _ well.” 

Asra’s gaze lingered on Meleia for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to the Queen. 

“Oh, yes,” said Asra, unashamed. “Everything is going perfectly.” 

Meleia felt like something were lodged in her throat. She didn’t know if she wanted to scream or cry. Or both. 

_ No. _ Things weren’t going perfectly at all. 

“In that case, it seems the official union of our two kingdoms will not be the only cause for celebration upon Damian’s return,” said Nadia. 

“Oh, we’ll have  _ plenty _ to celebrate,” Asra agreed. “But before we worry about that... if I may, Your Majesty?” 

Curiosity momentarily overcame Meleia’s worry. She looked back and forth between the Queen and the Majestro, trying to put the pieces together. Trying to figure out why Asra was looking right at her. And why he was smiling like that. And why he was pulling something out of a hidden pocket of his shash. And why both Faust and Forge had taken a very sudden and unusually keen interest in what Asra was doing. 

Nadia nodded. “By all means.” 

Asra turned back to Meleia. He shot another heart-wrenching smile her way. And he pulled a small, wrapped box out of the hidden pocket in his sash. 

Meleia could only stare at Asra, wide-eyed. It was all she could do to keep herself from gaping at him like a fish. 

With all the grace of true royalty, Asra offered the gift to Meleia. 

“To thank you,” he said softly, “for making my time in Vesuvia so wonderful.” 

Meleia couldn’t speak. She could barely move. She felt almost numb as she reached out for the box. Her hand froze inches away from it. She couldn’t bring herself to take it. 

Asra gave her a reassuring nod. At last, her movements still slow, hands shaking due to sheer shock, Meleia managed to open her gift. 

Inside the box sat a bracelet, a perfect circle of glittering seashells. The shells literally sparkled in the light, shining like the most priceless gemstones. 

Meleia gasped. “It’s... it’s beautiful.”

“It’s... why I was late to dinner,” Asra said with a nervous laugh. “I didn’t have much time to put it all together, but...” 

“It’s perfect,” Meleia breathed. “Where... how did you...?” 

“The seashells come from a hidden oasis in Zadith,” said Asra. “The water absolutely shines thanks to those shells. I hope I can take you to see it in person someday.” 

Meleia’s breath caught in her throat. “A-asra, I...” 

“Until then...” 

Asra leaned in closer. Their foreheads were nearly touching. His tone dropped into a whisper, his words meant only for her. 

“I hope you’ll wear it the next time you visit the docks,” he murmured. “And I hope, while you’re thinking of grand, musical adventures in far-off realms... maybe you’ll think of me.” 

Meleia couldn’t possibly form a reply. Her head was reeling. Her heart was threatening to pound itself out of her chest. Her eyes burned with barely held tears. 

Asra pulled back. “What do you think?” he asked, his voice carrying through the throne room this time. “Do you like it?” 

“It’s... it’s wonderful,” Meleia choked out. “Really. I’ve never... no one’s ever done anything like this for me.” 

Asra’s expression fell. “Are you alright? You sound upset...” 

Meleia shook her head. “No, I’m not, I’m really not, this is... incredible. I just... I can’t accept this. Something so precious should go to someone who deserves it.” 

Asra stared at her for a moment, taken aback. Then he laughed.

“Of  _ course _ you deserve it.” He lifted the bracelet out of the box and gently took her free hand. “I made it for you.” 

He slid the bracelet onto her wrist. It fit perfectly. 

Meleia thought her heart might burst. 

“I’m glad to see the two of you get along so well,” said Nadia. 

Meleia jumped, accidentally yanking her hand out of Asra’s. Nadia was smiling down at them. She looked almost smug. 

Meleia’s heart pounded even harder, if that was possible. 

_ Nadia knew.  _

Meleia never got a chance to even think about what that might mean, or what she could possibly do about it. The door slammed violently open, banging against the walls. And Lucio’s voice pierced the air. 

“There she is!” He pointed his golden claws directly at Meleia. “Guards! Seize that imposter!” 

Meleia gasped. She knew she should have run. Should have tried to escape. But she couldn’t move. 

Two fully-armed guards rushed towards her. They grabbed her arms, forcing them behind her back. 

“No!” Meleia cried. “No, wait, please!” 

The guards ignored her cries. She tried to struggle, tried to break free, but the guards were far too strong. They dragged her away, forcing her towards the doorway where Lucio still stood. His posture was almost heroic, a look of sheer triumph on his face. 

The room instantly fell into animal-related chaos. 

Forge yelped and tried to chase after Meleia. One of Lucio’s hounds swooped into action, leaping in front of the fox with teeth bared. Forge backed off, fur puffed up, baring his own fangs. The two were locked in a standoff. Faust curled her way around Asra’s arm, looking very alarmed. 

Nadia swept to her feet. She glared at Lucio. 

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded. 

At almost the same moment, Asra lurched forward, reaching out for Meleia. 

“Let her go!” he cried. 

The guards froze, conflicted, staring up at the queen. One guard distinctly eyed the still growling hound. But Meleia remained captive, her arms twisted painfully behind her back. 

She didn’t even notice. All of her attention was on Asra. His expression had turned icy with fury. 

Lucio swept a mocking bow. His other hound posed at his heels, almost copying his master’s movements. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Majestro,” Lucio said snidely. “The girl is an imposter.” 

“She’s a  _ princess, _ ” Asra protested. 

“She’s a  _ fake, _ ” Lucio shot back. “Just a little shopkeep!” 

Meleia couldn’t breathe. 

He’d found out.  _ How _ had he found out? She must have done something, said something, given some hint that she wasn’t who she claimed to be. Gods, this was all her fault. 

“And what proof do you have of this outrageous claim?” Nadia hissed. 

Meleia’s eyes darted to the Queen. Nadia was still defending her? Why? 

Lucio strode forward. He looked for all the world like a child whose birthday had come early. 

“It  _ is _ a shocking revelation, I know,” he said dramatically. “I’ve only just uncovered the plot myself. She’s  _ quite _ the little actress, isn’t she?” 

“You’re stalling, Lucio,” Nadia said coldly. “I ask again:  _ what proof _ led you to this accusation?” 

Lucio simply smirked. “Why, my darling Noddy, it’s all perfectly clear. Our own Julian brings in this girl, claiming her to be royalty, when she  _ clearly _ lacks all decorum... and any manners.” 

Meleia struggled against the guards. She tried to reach out to someone,  _ anyone _ . She didn’t even know what she intended to do. She just had to break free, had to do  _ something... _

She couldn’t let things get worse. She couldn’t let the others suffer. Julian, Damian, Nadia, Portia, even Asra... they all needed her help. 

But there was nothing she could do. 

Lucio was pacing back and forth, gesturing as he spoke. It was like he were playing the role of an investigator in a community theater production. A particularly  _ bad _ community theater production. Even the dog played along, marching by his master’s side. 

“And then our Prince’s prized tutor vanishes,” Lucio declared, “ _ just _ after he’d brought this... this  _ stranger. _ You  _ can’t _ tell me you didn’t wonder where he’d gone.” 

“He informed me he was working on some very important errands,” said Nadia coolly. 

“Errands that take  _ this _ long?” Lucio fired back. 

Nadia’s eyes narrowed. “You are very well aware that travel alone can take quite some time.” 

“Why travel when we have everything we could possibly need in the market just outside the palace?” Lucio replied easily. “I know you’re smart, Noddy. Think about it. The Prince  _ conveniently _ runs away, somehow managing to elude the entire palace guard. Professor Jules just  _ happens _ to bring in a strange visitor right after Damian goes missing. And then Jules vanishes as well! It’s all a bit too perfect, don’t you think?” 

“So you suspect Julian had something to do with the Prince’s disappearance,” Asra cut in. His expression was something close to disgust. “Fine. We can investigate that later. But what does any of this have to do with the princess?” 

Meleia’s heart hammered in her throat. He hadn’t used her name this time. 

“She’s his partner-in-crime!” Lucio declared. “He had this... this  _ sewing girl _ pose as royalty so that she could get all buddy-buddy with you, Majestro. They were trying to sabotage all of Noddy’s plans! To lure you away from Vesuvia, to ensure that our kingdom suffered without your help! And with Vesuvia in shambles... it would be all too easy for the two of them to swoop in and take over, wouldn’t it?” 

“No!” Meleia cried. “That’s not true! We weren’t trying to sabotage anything! We were just--” 

Lucio whirled on her. “So you admit you were the tutor’s partner, then? His fellow conspirator?” 

“Lucio,” said Asra, his tone even colder than his glare, “I have never heard a more ridiculous story.” 

Meleia’s heart twisted again. She didn’t know what to think. She didn’t know what  _ Asra _ was thinking. 

Lucio heaved a dramatic sigh. “I’d hoped it was only a story myself, Majestro. Then my search parties discovered that our dear Jules had been holding the Prince inside the mines.” 

Nadia’s expression grew even darker than before. “The mines? They were closed only a few days ago. We haven’t so much as had the chance to seal off all of the tunnels. It would be foolish to choose such a place as a prison. There are far too many escape routes.” 

“There would be,” Lucio nodded, “if Damian had managed to get to them in time.” 

Meleia froze. Even Nadia’s eyes widened. 

“What are you implying, Count?” Nadia demanded. 

Lucio hung his head, the picture of a defeated man. “Once we discovered where he was being held, I  _ tried _ to rescue the Prince. I would have fought a thousand soldiers single-handed if it would bring Damian home safely.” 

“Your  _ point _ , Lucio?” Nadia cut him off. 

Lucio dipped a short bow. “Of course. It’s rather painful to discuss. I’m  _ so _ sorry, Noddy, but... by the time I reached the mines, I was too late. There had been a cave-in. Everything was collapsed. It must have been a part of the tutor’s fiendish plot. We searched the wreckage, of course.  _ This _ was all that my crew could find.” 

He knelt before the Queen and held up a single, small object: a golden brooch inlaid with a few gemstones.

Meleia had never seen the brooch before. But it was obvious what it meant. 

Meleia’s heart may have stopped altogether, and she wouldn’t have noticed. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, though she wasn’t sure when she had started crying. 

Nadia gasped. A hand fluttered to her heart. 

“No...” she breathed. “Impossible. Damian can’t be...” 

“Dead?” Lucio suggested. “I’m afraid so. No one could survive a cave-in like that.” 

Slowly, Nadia collapsed into her throne. The weight of this news was too much for her to bear. Meleia understood. She’d nearly fallen herself; the guards were more holding her up than holding her back.

Nadia shook her head. “I... I will have my own personal guard search the mines. They may find something your workers missed.” 

“I’ll set out the order myself,” Lucio volunteered. “After we deal with this criminal, of course.” 

“You have still given us no reason to believe she truly  _ is _ the criminal you claim her to be,” said Nadia. Her voice didn’t carry the tone of command it usually did, but she was still managing to somewhat hold herself together. “I admit the timing is rather... convenient. But it could very well have been a coincidence. If Julian truly is guilty, I will respond accordingly, but timing alone is no evidence that our guest has committed any crime.” 

Meleia somehow managed to lift her head enough to look up at the Queen. Even after all this... Nadia was still defending her. She couldn’t believe it. She didn’t deserve that much trust. 

Lucio laughed. The harsh sound sent any shred of hope Meleia may have had crashing down. 

“Your Highness,” Lucio sneered, “the evidence has been right in front of you all along.” 

His boots clacked ominously against the floor as he strode over to where Meleia was held. Meleia backed away as best as she could, practically shoving up against the armor of the guards behind her. Lucio’s golden claw reached toward her face. Meleia squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself. But his gauntlet barely brushed against her. Meleia’s eyes snapped open, a startled gasp catching in her throat. The silver circlet that Nadia had lent her dangled from one of his claws. 

“A conspirator  _ and _ a thief,” Lucio hissed.

He tossed the circlet to the ground. It skidded across the floor with hollow, empty clangs. It clattered against the edge of the royal dais. And it rolled to a stop directly at the Queen’s feet. 

Nadia stared down at the circlet. Her eyes were wide. She looked almost terrified. 

“Your very own crown,” Lucio went on, a wide smirk splitting his face. “And you of all people should have noticed her clothes when she came in, Noddy.  _ Those _ shoes with  _ that _ dress? Really, who did she think she was fooling?”

A choked sort of sound escaped Meleia’s throat. 

Asra stared at the fallen circlet with almost the same expression Nadia wore. Faust had uncurled herself from his sash, nuzzling her nose against Asra’s cheek. Asra didn’t even notice. 

He turned to Meleia. And the look on his face made her heart break. 

“Meleia...” he breathed. 

“Enough wasting time!” Lucio barked. “Toss her in the dungeon where she belongs!” 

“No!” Meleia lurched forward, the cry bursting out of her. “No, please! I’m not a thief! I never hurt anyone! You have to believe me!” 

“Liar!” Lucio spat. 

“I am  _ not _ a liar!” Meleia sobbed. “Please, you have to let me go! It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” She looked desperately up at Nadia. “Your Majesty, please!” 

Nadia met her eyes. Meleia realized with a start that the stoic Queen was holding back tears of her own. 

“Please...” Meleia whispered. 

She tried to pour everything she felt into that one word. All of her desperate fear. Every ounce of her regret that she couldn’t do anything more. 

Nadia let out a long, low sigh. She seemed to sag in her throne. 

“This matter _ will _ be dealt with,” said Nadia, her tone almost shaky. “But at the moment, confirming Damian’s...  _ state _ is our top priority. I will speak with Meleia myself when this is all over.”

Meleia’s heart thudded so loudly she thought the guards might hear it. 

“The dungeons it is, then!” Lucio said gleefully. 

Nadia sighed again, her eyes sliding closed. “Really, Lucio, do you truly believe the dungeons absolutely necessary? We could have her confined to her quarters...” 

“You must still be in shock, Your Majesty,” Lucio sneered. “The dungeons are more than that little thief deserves!  _ Guards! _ ”

They guards jumped. They’d been so distracted by all the chaos that they were hardly doing their jobs. Meleia almost didn’t notice. The scene before her was overwhelming. She saw Forge trying to follow her, only to be blocked again by Lucio’s hound. She saw Nadia sag even further into her throne, looking utterly defeated. 

And, worst of all, she saw Asra. He was looking directly at her. He looked stunned. Shattered. Like everything in the world had started falling apart. 

“ _ Wait! _ ” Meleia sobbed. 

She jerked free of the guards’ weakened grip. She didn’t even notice her bracelet snap off in the struggle. She didn’t see the shells crash to the floor. She just ran, dashing straight to Asra. Desperately, she reached out for him, silently begging him to understand. Asra didn’t pull back... but he didn’t reach out for her, either. 

“Asra, I’m sorry,” Meleia said breathlessly. “I didn’t mean to trick you. And I  _ never _ meant to hurt you.” 

“Meleia...” Asra sighed. “Is it true?”

It took all of Meleia’s effort to answer. 

“I... I’m not a princess,” she admitted. “I’ve never even been to Nevivon. But I swear, I never wanted anything to happen to Vesuvia!”

The guards got over their shock. Her arms were once again forced behind her back. She was dragged backwards, forced towards the door. Her slippers skidded against the floor as she tried in vain to reach Asra again. All the while she cried out, the truth desperately pouring out of her. 

“And I would  _ never _ hurt Damian!” she sobbed. “He’s my friend! I was just trying to  _ help _ him!”

“Oh, be  _ quiet! _ ” Lucio snapped. “Guards, get rid of her already!” 

“No...” Meleia sobbed. “No,  _ please! _ ” 

The only response to her cries was an even wider smirk from Lucio. She was completely trapped. She had no chance of escaping the guards again. And not even Nadia could do anything to help her. 

The last thing she saw was Asra’s haunted look, his gaze lingering on her as she was dragged away. And then the throne room doors slammed in her face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooof this one was a hard one. Especially since this was one of the first chapters I wrote and I had to do a lot to make it work more in context. 
> 
> Also poor Meleia doesn't deserve this. Just sayin'.


	33. How Can You Refuse?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a criminal is a criminal.

Lucio’s evening couldn’t have gone more perfectly. 

That foolish prince and his interfering tutor were out of the picture. His dear Queen was utterly despondent, enough to not even argue when he sent that silly seamstress to the dungeons. And the Majestro was staring at the spot where the seamstress had been with a look that made Lucio absolutely certain that he wouldn’t be staying in Vesuvia much longer. 

Slowly, Asra stepped over to the place where the seamstress had momentarily broken free. And he picked up something that had fallen to the floor. Lucio craned forward, trying to see. He could tell it was something shiny. _ Several _ somethings, actually, and all rather small. But Asra’s fist closed around the whatever-they-were so quickly that Lucio couldn’t fully register them. 

“This isn’t right,” Asra murmured. “This doesn’t make _ any _ sense. Your Majesty...” 

He turned, looking up at Nadia. Nadia’s head was buried in one hand. She stared almost listlessly at the floor. 

“You must do something about this,” Asra insisted. “We can’t even be sure if the prince really _ has _ been killed.” 

Luico huffed. This Majestro was smarter than he looked. Lucio would almost find it admirable if it weren’t so annoying. 

“I saw the evidence myself,” Lucio grumbled. “Is Damian’s brooch not enough proof for you?”

Asra leveled him with a cold glare. “No. It isn’t.” 

“Both of you, please.” Nadia would have snapped at them if she hadn’t sounded so exhausted. “This is not the time to argue. We must keep searching. If there is any hope that my Damian...” 

She trailed off. She barely managed to hold back a shuddering sob. 

“I could help you search,” Asra offered. “But in the meantime... what about Meleia?” 

“What _ about _ her?” Lucio snapped. 

“Are you really going to let her suffer in the dungeon because of a few coincidences and a single circlet?” Asra said coldly. 

Lucio scoffed. “Of course. She’s a _ thief. _” 

“She was willing to talk with us,” said Asra. “To share _ her _ side of the story.” 

“More of her lies,” said Lucio, waving the Majestro’s thoughts away. “More additions to the long list of her crimes. Anyway, _ her _ side of the story won’t matter soon.” 

“And why not?” Asra hissed. 

“Because she’ll be hanged before lunch tomorrow,” said Lucio. “It _ is _ the punishment for treason.” 

The room went dead silent. A perfect reaction, as far as Lucio was concerned. For a long moment, the Majestro simply glared at him. If Lucio were a more cowardly man, he would have balked at the icy stare. But Lucio met the Majestro’s hard look with an easy smile. 

Lucio was as good as victorious already. Nothing a little Majestro could do would get in his way now. 

Then, somehow both slowly and abruptly, Asra’s glare turned on the Queen. 

“Is this truly how you treat the accused in Vesuvia?” 

His voice was quiet. Hardly more than a whisper. But Nadia winced as though she had been struck. 

“What about a trial?” Asra went on. “Do you even care if the accused turn out to be innocent?” 

Lucio scoffed. “A trial? In Vesuvia? We haven’t held one in years.” 

“We have had no need for them,” said Nadia almost feebly. 

“True.” Lucio inclined his head to the Queen in a slight bow. “A criminal _ is _ a criminal, after all. Why waste time?” 

“That is _ not _ what I meant, Lucio,” said Nadia. Once again, her tone held none of its usual sternness. 

Asra shook his head. He looked absolutely furious. 

“If this is how justice works in Vesuvia,” he said slowly, “then I want no part in it. Zadith cannot align with a kingdom so willing to resort to bloodshed.” 

Nadia lifted her head just enough to look at Asra. “Majestro, forgive me for speaking so bluntly, but you don’t understand what--”

“You’re right,” Asra cut her off. “I _ don’t _ understand. But I intend to find out what’s going on. Even if I have to do it myself.” 

With that, he stormed out of the room. His hulking guard followed without a word. The girl’s fox dashed after them, slipping out of the throne room and under the guard’s legs just before the door banged shut. 

Nadia sighed. She collapsed so deeply into her throne that it looked like she wanted it to swallow her whole. 

“It’s as if the realm itself wishes to add suffering onto suffering,” she murmured. “Lucio... how could everything have gone so wrong?” 

“Why, I don’t know, Your Majesty,” said Lucio. “But I _ am _ here to help. As always.” 

“Forgive me,” Nadia murmured, “but at the moment it’s rather difficult to see how _ anyone _ can help. If Damian truly is dead... no one can bring him back.” 

“True,” Lucio shrugged. “And I’m sure the kingdom will mourn for him. I know _ I’ll _ miss him.”

Nadia raised an eyebrow. She didn’t look particularly convinced. Lucio instantly changed track. 

“But that’s no reason for Vesuvia to suffer,” he said quickly. “Well, any more than it already is. Or will be, when the news gets out.” 

“What are you trying to say, Lucio?” said Nadia. She still sounded drained, hollow. 

Lucio’s smirk stretched. “Do you have any plans for what to do about our near-bankruptcy, now that the Majestro has left?” 

Nadia said nothing. She didn’t move, either. She seemed utterly frozen. Her eyes were shut in a pained grimace. 

“Didn’t think so,” Lucio sneered. “Well, luckily for you, _ I _ happen to have a solution.” 

The Queen’s eyes flickered open. She stared at him from under her hand. 

Lucio strode across the room, the flow of his fur-lined cape adding emphasis to his words. His dogs sat at attention, as though they had rehearsed the moment. In truth, they had simply been trained to stay at attention whenever Lucio paced, but he was certain that Nadia didn’t know that. 

“You _ do _ remember the little journey I took recently?” said Lucio, drawing his words out. 

“Of course,” Nadia mumbled. 

“Well.” Lucio paused, turning to face her. He couldn’t contain his glee. “I’m sure you know, then, that I was working on a little... _ business venture._” 

“Where are you going with this, Lucio?” said Nadia. 

“To borrow a commoner’s phrase, I _ struck gold, _ ” Lucio sneered. “My venture was _ very _ successful. And now...” 

He stepped right up to her throne. And he lowered his tone to a conspiratorial whisper. 

“I’m just as rich as the Majestro,” he said. “Maybe even _ richer. _”

Nadia’s eyes widened. She looked up at him in utter shock. 

Lucio grinned. He could practically see her mind whirling as she put the pieces together. As she began to realize how little choice she truly had. 

Leaving others with little choice was often the best way to ensure total victory. And Lucio _ loved _ to win. 

He swept a flourishing bow. “You see, dear Noddy? Your hero has arrived.” 

Nadia didn’t respond. She still just stared at him. Not quite the reaction Lucio was looking for. So he played it up even more. 

Lucio grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. Nadia, ever graceful, managed not to stumble as she took a step forward to catch herself. 

“My fortune is yours, Noddy!” Lucio declared. “Well, _ half _ of it. I did earn it on my own, so I should get to keep a little something. You understand.” 

Nadia’s eyes narrowed. “Lucio. Is this really the time to discuss something like this?” 

Lucio gasped, offended. “It’s the _ only _ time to discuss it! Vesuvia is falling apart! I’m offering to _ save _ it!” 

“Lucio--” 

Lucio instantly cut Nadia off. “I will ensure that the kingdom is saved from starvation! Ensure that you never need to give up your precious Golden Goose, ensure that we can keep our gilded plates on our royal table!” 

“_Our _ royal table?” Nadia repeated. 

Lucio’s grin widened, if that were possible. “Yes, my dear. After all, as generous as I am, I can’t simply hand you half of my fortune. It’s such a _ vast _ fortune, after all.” 

“What do you want in return?” Nadia asked. 

Lucio smirked. “What are you offering?” 

“If it is to save my kingdom, my _ people _...” Nadia’s head drooped. She was little more than a shattered shadow of the proud Queen she once was. “I will do what I must.” 

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Noddy,” said Lucio. “All I need is one little thing. You won’t miss it. You’ve never even used it.” 

Nadia raised an eyebrow, confused. Lucio released her hand and swept over to the corner of the room where the royal crown was displayed. 

Nadia’s eyes widened further. “Lucio? What in the _ world _ are you...?” 

Lucio’s gloved fingers brushed against the glass case that surrounded the crown. If he had been thinking about it, he would have been glad that he was facing away from the Queen; she would have recognized the greedy look in his eyes in an instant. 

“A fair price, isn’t it?” said Lucio. “The savior of the kingdom _ deserves _ to wear the crown.” 

“_You? _” Nadia gasped. “King?” 

Lucio swept a bow, smirking almost playfully. 

Nadia staggered back. “I... I have never had need for a partner. I have ruled alone all these years...” 

“You certainly have,” said Lucio. “And now that you’ve fallen into such an unfortunate situation, wouldn’t you like a little bit of assistance? Someone to handle all the details?” 

Lucio had absolutely no intention of handling the finer details of the kingdom. No, he would leave _ that _ boring job to Valerius. Valerius was the one always talking about taking back control. Lucio, on the other hand, had some different things in mind. Lavish parties, for one. Perhaps a parade. And _ definitely _ all of the perks that came with being King. The ability to grant titles to one’s friends was hardly even an afterthought. When he was king, all his wildest whims would be attended to. 

At long last, Lucio would get the praise and attention he deserved. 

Nadia hesitated. She was staring at the crown, one hand still hovering over her heart. 

“Noddy, darling, there’s nothing to worry about,” said Lucio brazenly. 

He swept back over to Nadia and climbed right on the dias with her. He knelt before her, holding up the ring box that he’d kept tucked away in his cloak just for this moment. 

“I don’t plan on simply crowning myself,” said Lucio. “As your husband, I will rule by your side. We’ll make a glorious royal couple, won’t we?” 

Nadia blinked rapidly, trying to piece all of this together. 

“Marry?” she said warily. “Now? Amidst all of this--” 

“Didn’t I tell you I’d take care of the details?” said Lucio. “You already spruced up the palace for the Majestro’s visit. Those decorations will work for us. With a few of my own additions, of course. It’ll be a tough backdrop to work with, but, as they say, beggars can’t be choosers.” 

“There is far more involved in a royal wedding than decorations,” said Nadia. 

Her tone was still exhausted. Almost weakened. Lucio straightened up with a grin. Victory was at hand. 

“All taken care of!” he declared. “The menu’s been decided. I’ve found someone to officiate. And I’ve already booked the band. We’ll be dancing well into dawn!”

He did a bit of fancy footwork for emphasis. Nadia watched with an expression that Lucio was firmly convinced must have been admiration, though in reality it was far closer to disgust. 

“So what do you say, my dear?” Lucio extended the ring. “Let’s save the kingdom. Just as you planned.” 

Slowly, Nadia shook her head. “I did not plan for this. How could I possibly have planned for this?” 

“A fair point,” said Lucio. “All the more reason to marry me. After all...” He smiled up at her, his grin nothing short of wicked. “How can you refuse?” 

Nadia didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. The answer was abundantly clear.

She simply couldn’t afford to refuse. 

Nadia closed her eyes as though bracing herself. And she held out her hand. 

Practically giggling with sheer glee, Lucio slipped the diamond ring onto her finger. As Nadia forced her eyes open and looked down at the ring, Lucio wasted no time in taking his proper place. 

He let out a triumphant laugh. And he sat on the throne, his legs casually crossed. His dogs both barked and eagerly rushed to join him. Lucio leaned back, reveling in his victory. 

“King Lucio,” he sighed. “You know, I think it really suits me.” 

He didn’t notice the expression on Nadia’s face. He was too busy reveling in his own victory. He raised a fist high in triumph. 

“Long live the King!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I just love the idea of the band already being booked. That was so funny to me even in the movie. I just had to make sure it ended up in here, too! 
> 
> It's always interesting to mesh the much more childish Lucio with the somewhat more suave Preminger. I think it worked pretty well here.
> 
> Sorry for the kind of short chapter this time around. Next chapter will make up for it, I promise!


	34. Rock Bottom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's nowhere to go and nothing to lose.

Damian’s hands were shaking. And they burned with pain. His arms threatened to fall right out of their sockets. He could barely even hold the pickax anymore, let alone lift it. 

But he lifted it anyway. And he slammed it against the wall that the cave-in had created. Over and over, he brought the pick crashing down. He was breathing heavily, practically screaming in exertion. 

“Damian!” Julian cried. 

Damian ignored him. He swung again. The sound of metal on stone rang through the cavern. The aftershock of the blow reverberated painfully down his arm. 

“Damian, stop!” 

Damian let out another roar. The axe crashed against the stone again. 

He was barely even making a dent. But he wouldn’t stop. He _ couldn’t _ stop. 

“_Damian!"_

Julian caught his arm before Damian could bring it down for another swing. Damian was jerked backwards, the pick flying out of his hand. He whirled at Julian, an almost feral grimace on the prince’s face. Julian grabbed his shoulders, holding him still. 

“Damian, listen to me, you _ need _to stop,” Julian said firmly. “It’s no use.”

Damian shook his head. “I _ have _ to keep going, Julian! We can’t--”

“You’re only going to get yourself hurt,” Julian insisted.

Damian let out a dry, almost crazed laugh. “We’re _ both _ going to be a _ lot _ more than _ hurt _ if we don’t find a way out of here.” 

“You aren’t going to find _ anything _ by breaking your arms,” Julian snapped. “Look at yourself, Damian. Look at your _ hands_.” 

Julian grabbed his wrists for emphasis, flipping Damian’s hands palm-up.

Damian looked. His hands were still trembling. They were covered with blisters. Some had popped and were starting to bleed. And there were other marks, too, cuts and scratches from his previous failed attempts at escape and sewing. They looked nothing like a prince’s hands anymore. But Damian just gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, and glared back up at his tutor. 

“Well, what do you _ expect _ me to do?” Damian cried. “Just sit here and wait for a rescue that’s never going to come?” 

Julian didn’t reply. Aside from Damian’s heavy breathing, the cavern was utterly silent. 

At last, Julian sighed. 

“I... I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I can’t let you keep hurting yourself like this, Damian. We’ll find another way out of this, right?” 

Damian couldn’t muster up a response. 

Julian looked at him for a moment more, expression equal parts determined and pleading. Then he took a deep breath, barely holding back another sigh. 

“At least let me do something about your hands,” he said. 

Before Damian even had the chance to reply, Julian released his hands and picked up a sharp-edged rock. Julian used it to hack away at the ends of his tunic. In a moment, he had several long, albeit jagged, pieces of cloth. He wrapped them deftly around Damian’s hands. Damian could only watch, forcing all of his desperate frustration back for the moment. 

Julian was right. They would find another way out of this. They _ had _ to. If they didn’t, the entire kingdom would be in danger. 

Who was he kidding? The kingdom was _ already _ in danger. 

“There.” Julian tied off the makeshift bandages. “Better?” 

Damian managed a listless nod. 

“Good,” Julian sighed. “Right. Now, let’s see if there are any weak spots.” 

He pulled away from Damian and stepped up to a different wall. He felt along the dirt, searching for any way out. Damian watched. Without Julian there, he didn’t have the strength to move. And the bandages did nothing to warm his hands. They felt far too cold now that Julian had let go of them. 

Julian stepped back. He frowned at the wall. “No... this side’s no good, either. If we dig any further, we might send the whole thing down on top of us.” 

He let out another sigh, longer this time. Then he looked at another spot in the cavern, expression almost defiant. 

“Right, then.” He rolled up his sleeves. “Let’s try over here.”

Damian’s chest felt tight. Julian looked awful: battered, bruised, and exhausted. And he didn’t even seem to notice the state he was in. He was still trying, still searching... for Damian’s sake. Julian was bound to wear himself out, soon. Which was exactly what he had told Damian _ not _ to do. 

Julian stepped back again, shaking his head. “Nothing.” He growled in frustration. “There _ has _ to be something, _ somewhere... _ Come on, brain, don’t fail me now...” 

He went to another spot on the wall, intent on continuing his search. 

“Julian...” 

Julian froze. So did Damian. Damian wasn’t even sure why he’d called out to Julian in the first place. Especially not with that tone of voice. But Julian turned. And there was nothing but concern in his eyes when he looked at Damian. 

“Are you alright?” Julian asked softly. “You look exhausted... you need to rest. Here...” 

He took Damian’s hands again, his touch almost impossibly gentle. And he led Damian to an outcropping of rock just big enough for the two of them to sort of sit down. Damian slumped down, trying to fight against the utter defeat welling up in his chest.

Julian looked up at him for the briefest moment. Then his gaze dropped to his feet. It was like he couldn’t even meet Damian’s eyes anymore. 

Damian couldn’t exactly fault him for that. He couldn’t meet Julian’s eyes, either, electing instead to stare at his own bandaged hands. 

“I’m sorry,” said Julian. 

“It’s not your fault,” said Damian. 

“It might as well be,” Julian said glumly. “This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go.” 

At last, Damian managed to look up at his tutor. “What are you talking about?” 

“I’m supposed to protect you.” Julian’s hands curled into fists. “And I tried. When I snuck out of the palace... I was trying to _ find _ you. To save you. But by the time I figured out where you were being held, you had already broken out. And when Lucio caught me and threw me in here, I thought... well, better me than you.” 

Damian’s heart lurched. “Julian...” 

“I figured as long as I was still stuck in here, that meant you were out there somewhere, safe,” Julian went on. “Maybe you’d even find a way to get back at Lucio. But now you’re trapped, too, which means I wasn’t there to protect you. And now I’ve probably gotten Pasha and Meleia and everyone else caught up in _ my _ mess, and...” 

He trailed off with a groan, half frustrated, half utterly disappointed. 

“You never dragged anyone anywhere,” Damian protested. 

Julian shook his head again. “Meleia only came to the palace because _ I _ asked her to. Pasha only led Meleia to meet the Queen because of _ my _ scheme. And then Her Majesty figured out what we were trying to do, and she helped us out just so _ they _ wouldn’t get in trouble for _ my _ idiotic idea... ”

“Julian, slow down.” Damian put a hand on Julian’s shoulder. “I have _ no _ idea what you’re talking about. I only heard Meleia was even _ at _the palace when I went to her shop.” 

Julian blinked. “_That’s _ where you went after you escaped?” 

“I was looking for help,” said Damian, almost bitterly. “Lucio’s plan was far more complicated than I thought... when I tried to get back to the palace, I was turned away at the gates.” 

Julian sighed, burying his head in his hands. “And I only brought Meleia to the palace to stall for time so I could go looking for you. If I’d been patient, I could have made sure you weren’t turned away. And Meleia would never have pretended to be the Princess of Nevivon, and...” 

Despite everything, Damian let out an incredulous laugh. “Nevivon has a princess?” 

Julian tried to smile, but it didn’t quite work. “No, not at all. Her Majesty caught that, too. I thought for certain that Pasha and Meleia were going to be in deep trouble...” 

“And you weren’t?” Damian asked. 

“It was _ my _ plan,” said Julian again. “If it went wrong, I was ready to face the music. To take whatever punishment the Queen or Lucio or _ anyone _ would dish out. But all I did was make everything worse for everyone. If I’d only stayed at the palace, none of this would have happened.”

Damian shook his head. “You couldn’t have known.” 

Julian buried his face in his hands, frustrated. “I shouldn’t have been so reckless. I can’t be trusted.” 

“Is that what you really think?” Damian asked quietly. “That I shouldn’t trust you?”

Julian said nothing. 

“Julian, I’ve trusted you for _ years,” _said Damian. “I don’t plan on stopping now.” 

Julian shook his head, uncomprehending. “I _ failed _ you, Damian. You needed me, and I wasn’t there. What if... what if that happens again?” 

“It might,” said Damian. “But it won’t be your fault then, either. Things happen, Julian. You can’t carry the burdens of the entire world on your own shoulders.” 

“I should,” said Julian at once. “Better that than letting everyone else suffer for my sake. I’d rather sink and drown than drag all of you down with me.” 

“Gods, Julian, just _ listen _ to me,” Damian sighed. “You didn’t _ drag _ anyone.” 

“What about Meleia?” Julian shot back. “Pasha? Even Her Majesty put her neck on the line to help Meleia with my plan... gods, Pasha was right, my schemes _ are _ hairbrained...” 

“They helped you because they _ wanted _ to,” Damian insisted. “Just like you wanted to help me.” 

Julian sighed. “We _ all _ wanted to help you, Damian. And now look at us.”

Damian didn’t need to look. He knew that they were both a very sorry sight. 

“Well, if it’s any consolation, there’s no one in the world I’d rather be stuck in an old mine with,” said Damian.

Julian stared at him, utterly uncomprehending. “You... you’re really not angry at me?” 

“No?” said Damian slowly, just as confused. “Why would I be?” 

“I got you in this mess,” said Julian for what felt like the umpteenth time. 

“You were trying to _ save _ me,” Damian insisted. “You may have hit a few bumps in the road along the way, but... you were doing what you thought was right. You were doing everything you could to help. No one can blame you for that.” 

“No one but me,” said Julian with a bitter smile. 

Damian gave him an exasperated look. 

Julian’s smirk slowly vanished. “But... you _ don’t _ blame me.” 

“No,” said Damian simply. 

“Even after everything,” said Julian, “you still want me to help you?” 

“Of course,” said Damian. “Besides, we still have an entire kingdom to save. And we’re not much use to anyone stuck in here, are we?” 

Julian let out a bitter laugh. “Ah, yes. _ That _ minor detail. Almost ironic that we were so worried about your upcoming wedding, isn’t it? Marrying the Majestro and learning the customs of a foreign nation must sound like an easy stroll compared to all this.” 

Damian leaned forward a bit, trying to meet Julian’s eye.

He had to say it. If he didn’t, he might never get the chance. 

“Julian. Why do you think I didn’t want to marry Asra?” 

Julian blinked. Clearly, he hadn’t put much thought into it before. 

“Uh, because he’s some random Majestro you’ve never met before?” he guessed. “Or... you weren’t ready to get married at all?” 

Damian shook his head. “Actually, I... I wouldn’t mind getting married. As a concept.” 

“Ah.” Julian cleared his throat. “Sounds like you had someone else in mind, then.” 

“I did,” said Damian. “Still do, in fact.” 

“Oh?” Julian’s tone was almost lighthearted, but Damian could sense how forced it was. “Anyone I know?” 

“You know him,” said Damian rather playfully. “He’s someone who was always there for me when I needed him. Someone I would never want to live without. Someone who took the time to understand me, to get to know the _ real _ me instead of just the Prince. Someone with a quick wit, always ready with a joke or advice... whatever it takes to lighten a dark mood. Not to mention his incredible charm. He can be a bit dramatic at times, but... his heart is always in the right place. And he’s always willing to help anyone who needs it.” 

“He sounds incredible,” said Julian. He couldn’t hide the sadness in his tone. “What’s his name?” 

For the first time since he had been tossed into the mines, Damian truly smiled. 

“His name is Julian,” said Damian pointedly. “Julian Devorak. Or Ilya, to his family. And he probably had a different name when he was a fearsome pirate, but I honestly don’t know that one.” 

Julian turned red. The blush crept all the way to his ears. 

“M-me?” he stuttered. 

Damian chuckled. “Yes,_ you. _ Who else would it be?” 

“Well, ah,” Julian flushed. “There could be another, much more capable Julian Devorak out there somewhere...” 

“Not a chance,” said Damian lightly.

Julian blinked at him. “But... but I’m only a tutor,” he stuttered. 

“Not according to all the stories you’ve told me,” said Damian, only half teasing. 

Julian shook his head. “That isn’t the point. I... I don’t have anything to offer you. I don’t have anything that the Majestro has.” 

“You’re right,” Damian agreed. “You don’t have the things that the Majestro has. But I don’t _ need _ any of those things. And more to the point... I don’t _ care. _” 

Julian blinked, stunned. “I...” 

“I love _ you_, Julian,” said Damian firmly. “It doesn’t matter if you’re a King or a tutor or a pirate or even the man who ended up having _ far _ too many Salty Bitters to even stand up.” 

Julian let out an incredulous laugh. 

“I love you because of _ who _ you are,” Damian went on. “Not _ what _ you are. Think of it this way. Would you still have rushed out to help me, even if I wasn’t a prince?” 

“Of course,” said Julian at once. “I’d do anything for you, Damian.” 

“See?” said Damian. “And even if I weren’t a prince, I still wouldn’t want to spend the rest of my life with anyone but you.” 

For a moment, Julian’s face was lit with hope. Then it closed off again. 

“We can’t,” he said feebly. “I can’t.” 

“Julian...” 

“You have no idea how badly I want this, Damian,” said Julian. “How much I love you.”

Damian’s heart did a funny little flip. He’d hoped for so long that Julian might feel the same way. But the way Julian had said it... he sounded almost defeated. 

“When I first met you, I... I was lost,” Julian went on. “I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I’d failed at nearly everything I’d tried. I couldn’t be a doctor, I couldn’t be a pirate, I... I couldn’t be _ anything. _ I wasn’t even the best tutor.” 

“You were an amazing tutor,” said Damian. 

“Not at the start,” Julian almost laughed. “But you never seemed to care. All that talk about taking the time to get to know the _ real _ person under the title... you have no idea how true that is for me, too. Do you know how frightened I was when I told you about my history? That day we snuck out to the market?” 

Damian shook his head. “You didn’t seem frightened at all.” 

“I was terrified.” Julian did let out a laugh this time, a weak one. “But at that point, I thought... what did I have to lose? You were going to marry the Majestro. And I was just going to go back to being... well, nothing. No one. Just a good-for-nothing ragamuffin that didn’t deserve any notice or care.” 

“You were never_ no one_,” Damian insisted. “And I’m not the only one who cares about you. Portia’s probably worried sick right now. Even mother’s fond of you.” 

Julian snorted. “The Queen? Really?” 

“She would have kicked you out years ago if she wasn’t,” said Damian.

Julian turned pink again. “Fair point.” 

“If the kingdom wasn't on the verge of ruin, I bet she would have let me marry you,” Damian said lightly. “If either of us had proposed.” 

Julian’s face shifted from pink to bright, tomato red. “I-is that... is that what I think it is?” 

“What do you think it is?” said Damian. 

Julian shook his head. “I don’t know. It almost sounded like a proposal, but I know you would never...” 

“I would,” said Damian. “And it was. Not a very good one, I admit, but... I already told you I wanted to marry you, didn’t I?” 

“Ah. Yes.” Julian coughed. “You did.” 

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Is that a ‘yes,’ then?” 

“Oh, gods, yes,” Julian blurted out. “There’s nothing I want more in the entire world than to have a future with you.” 

He impulsively grabbed Damian’s hands... a little too tightly. Damian flinched. Julian instantly let go. 

“Sorry!” he cried. “Oh, Damian, darling, I never meant...” 

Damian snorted, unable to contain his laughter. “Really, Julian, you need to stop apologizing for everything. It’s fine. _ I’m _ fine. I’m... I’m better than fine, actually. Now that I know. That we both... well. That you love me, too.” 

“Yes...” Julian said weakly. “I do. I love you, Damian.” 

He sounded utterly amazed. Like he was in the middle of a wild dream. 

“You seem surprised,” Damian teased. 

Julian chuckled. “A part of me still doesn’t quite get it. Even after such a passionate speech. Out of all the people in the world... you chose me. Despite everything. It’s... it’s hard to wrap my head around.” 

He mulled that thought over for a moment. Damian didn’t say a word. He simply took Julian’s hand gently in his own. Julian flashed Damian a sly sort of grin. 

“Until now, I was never sure why _ you _ never kicked me out of the palace,” he said. 

Damian snorted. “Oh, my, I wonder what could _ possibly _ have made me want to keep you around?” 

Julian waggled his eyebrows. “Must have been my personal magnetism, eh?” 

With that signature Julian smirk fired directly at him... Damian couldn’t resist teasing him right back. 

“Oh, I’d certainly say you’re very... _ attract-_ive,” said Damian. 

Julian’s chin dropped. His eyes widened. Julian and Damian stared at each other for a long moment, both of them utterly silent. 

Then, at the same instant, they both burst out laughing. 

“Attractive?” Julian repeated, barely squeezing the words out between laughs. “Me? What a _ polarizing _ opinion!” 

That just made them both laugh harder. Damian’s sides were starting to hurt. Julian’s face was turning red for an entirely different reason than before. 

“That was _ horrible, _” Damian wheezed. 

“Yours was worse,” Julian choked out. 

They tried to calm themselves down. But then they looked up at each other, and they started laughing all over again. 

The jokes truly were terrible. But in such a dire, tense, utterly strange moment... it was exactly the kind of levity they needed. 

Still laughing, they collapsed against each other, arms thrown haphazardly around one another’s shoulders. They sat there together, clinging onto one another, until they had finally laughed themselves out. Damian only realized he’d laughed so hard he’d started crying when he pulled away to wipe his eyes. He blinked up at Julian, still grinning. 

“You okay?” he asked. 

Julian managed one last chuckle. He kissed Damian’s cheek. 

“Never better,” Julian grinned. 

Damian’s cheek felt warm. That warmth spread, filling him with confidence. With Julian here, Damian felt like he could do anything. 

“Right.” Damian stood up, his hand still twined in Julian’s. “Now. Let’s get out of here. No point in getting married when we’re stuck in a cave, right?” 

“Absolutely,” Julian chuckled.

Julian allowed Damian to pull him to his feet. They shared one last look, both far more determined than before. 

They would get out of this. And then they would face whatever was going on at the palace. Even if they failed, at least they were together. 

And together, Damian was certain they could tackle anything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so gosh darn fun to write. Julian is amazing. And that pun was irresistible.


	35. Calling the Cavalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are further animal shenanigans.

Not for the first time, Forge desperately wished humans could actually understand him. For creatures that spent a lot of time talking, only a few ever really bothered to listen. 

How could any of them think that Meleia was bad? She was the kindest person Forge had ever met. She had taken him in when he was lost and alone and scared, even though she already had so much to deal with on her own. She was busier than most of the other humans that Forge had seen, but she always had time for him. She’d even brought him to this amazing new place, full of fun things to play with and incredible places to explore. 

And now she’d been taken away. 

Forge had to help. He had to get her back. 

Maybe Meleia’s new friend Asra could help. He was nice, and smart, and always made Meleia smile. Meleia always seemed so happy and comfortable near Asra. And Asra seemed to like her as much as she liked him. So Forge made sure he stuck by Asra when he and his big friend left the fancy room. And Forge did all he could to listen to what he was saying to his big friend. 

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Asra said breathlessly. 

“She lied,” his big friend grumbled. “Like you.” 

“And I didn’t have any cruel intent when I came to the palace in disguise,” said Asra. “I _ can’t _ believe she did. I _ won’t._” 

“So what now?” Muriel asked. 

Asra went into his pocket. He pulled out a handful of shiny seashells. The same ones he had decorated Meleia with before. He stared at them, his pain obvious to Forge. 

“We do the only thing we can,” said Asra at last. “We try to find our _ own _ proof.”

Muriel’s frown grew. “And if we don’t?” 

Asra sighed. He tucked the shells back into his pocket. 

“Then we deal with it then,” he said.

Forge let out a yip, trying to catch the humans’ attention. He would _ not _ let them do anything bad to his best friend. 

Faust was the first to notice. She flicked out her tongue, wiggling in excitement. 

_ New friend! _ she called. _ Hello! _

_ Hello, _ Forge yipped back. _ New friend help? Humans not listening. _

_ Bad at listening, _ Faust agreed. 

She gave Asra’s arm a squeeze before letting go, plunking unceremoniously to the floor. Faust would have been worried about the snake’s safety if she hadn’t hissed out a gleeful _ Whee! _ as she dropped. 

Asra stopped short. “Faust? What are you...?” 

For an instant, he only seemed concerned for his animal friend’s safety. Then his eyes met Forge’s. And he blinked, surprised. 

“Forge?” Asra crouched down, getting closer to the fox’s level. “You followed us?” 

Forge yipped again and ran an eager circle around Asra. It was as close as he could get to saying _ yes. _

Asra offered his hand for Forge to sniff. Forge stopped short and rubbed his head pleadingly against Asra’s palm. 

“You must be worried about Meleia,” said Asra. 

Forge’s ears and tail drooped sadly. Faust slithered up next to him and put her chin on Asra’s arm. 

_ Worried, _ she echoed. 

Asra sighed. “I’m worried, too,” he said, almost as though he actually understood her. “But it’ll be alright. I’ll find some way to help her.” 

Forge wagged his tail eagerly. Faust wiggled in agreement. 

“Oh?” Asra chuckled. “Do you two want to help, too?” 

Both animals instantly answered without thinking, forgetting that Asra couldn’t really hear them. Still, their eager movements made their reply obvious. 

_ Yes! _

“Looks like we have quite the team,” Asra chuckled. “All right. Forge, Faust, you two see if you can go find Inanna. There might be some way she can track the prince.” 

Muriel shifted uncomfortably. “Asra...”

“I know that isn’t quite what the Queen wanted,” Asra said quickly, “but... desperate times.” 

Muriel sighed. “Not what I meant.” 

“I know,” said Asra again. 

He said nothing more. But Forge hardly noticed. He’d barely even heard anything Asra had said. He was too busy tilting his head quizzically at Faust. 

_ Inanna? _ he repeated.

_ Fluffy friend! _ Faust replied. _ Big. Strong. Warm. Good at sniffing! _

_ Fluffy friend help? _ Forge asked. 

Faust wiggled excitedly. _ Good at help! _

Forge wagged his tail at Faust. Then he looked up at Asra and gave a single yip. 

“Sounds like you’re up for the challenge,” said Asra, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “You go see if you can sniff anything out. We’ll do all we can here.” 

Both Forge and Faust nodded firmly. 

_ Go! _ Faust urged. 

She slithered off, making a mad dash to the gardens. Forge was hot on her tail. They’d left the corridor before Asra even had the chance to straighten up. 

Faust was surprisingly fast, and she knew her way around the castle incredibly well considering she’d been hiding inside Asra’s sash most of the time. Forge would have to ask her about that later. Right then, they were both too worried about reaching the garden. 

By the time they got there, it was nearly too dark out to see. But the garden was so well lit that it didn’t matter. Either way, it didn’t take long at all to find Inanna. Mostly because Inanna found _ them. _Forge was so startled when the wolf poked her head out of a thick bush that he nearly fell over. But Faust simply wiggled in joy. 

_ Fluffy friend! _

Inanna huffed. _ That’s not my name. _

_ Need help! _ Faust cried, completely ignoring Inanna. 

_ I thought so, _ said Inanna. _ The humans are very worried. What happened? _

Forge explained everything as best as he could. Inanna, much to Forge’s surprise, actually listened despite the fact that they hadn’t been formally introduced. And despite the fact that Forge was decidedly not the best at explaining things. Faust’s occasional interjections of things like calling Lucio _ Bad man! _and declaring that Meleia gave great chin scritches didn’t really help, either. 

Inanna’s ears pressed progressively closer to her head the more she heard. 

_ How can I help? _ Inanna asked at once. 

Forge sagged in sheer relief. _ Help find prince? _ he asked. 

Inanna shifted doubtfully. _ I can try. But I need something to track. _

Faust twisted around so hear head was upside-down. It had the same effect as Forge tilting his own head: a pretty obvious question mark. 

_ Track? _ Faust repeated. 

_ Something to... sniff, _ Inanna replied, clearly pained at needing to explain it like that. _ Something that smells like the prince. _

_ Prince smell... _ Forge thought about that for a long moment, but he couldn’t come up with anything that might have had the prince’s scent. He remembered that the humans had said the room with the big fluffy bed had belonged to the prince, but he didn’t like the idea of trying to sneak around the castle with those two big dogs around.... 

But it seemed Faust had the same idea. _ Big house? _ she suggested.

_ Dangerous, _ Forge warned. 

Faust looked distinctly cheeky. _ Danger fun! _

_ I’m not going inside, _ Inanna growled. _ I do my best work out here. And most humans don’t like wolves. _

_ Meleia good, _ said Forge firmly. _ Meleia like everyone_. 

As a rather gruff creature, Inanna wasn’t known for smiling. But she got close. 

_ Good to know._

_ Help Meleia! _ Forge pressed. _ Meleia good friend! _

Inanna looked up at the walls of the palace. Her ears were perked, her every muscle on high alert. _ Is your friend in there? _

_ In trouble, _ Forge confirmed.

Faust slithered right up to Inanna and urgently poked the wolf’s leg with her nose. _ Help friend! _

Inanna casually stepped away from Faust’s nose, looking for all the world as though she had done that a thousand times before. 

_ Should we get her out? _ Inanna asked. 

Forge growled in frustration. 

_Find prince, _ Forge insisted. _ Then Meleia safe. _

Inanna growled right back. Her tail lashed dangerously. It was clear that she did not want to set foot inside that building. Forge’s fur bristled up. He didn’t want to test his strength against a wolf that was more than three times his size. But he was willing to try to outwit her. If it meant helping his human, he would do anything and everything he could. 

But none of them got a chance to do much else. Something flew over the hedges that marked the start of the maze and flopped onto the ground. All three of the animals jumped, lurching back in alarm. But it was Forge who first realized what had happened. 

_ Friend! _ he barked. _ Oswald! _

The bat was exhausted, dirty, and absolutely ragged. But he straightened up nonetheless. And when he looked at Forge, he seemed distinctly relieved. 

_ Forge, _ he said quickly. 

Forge’s tail wagged. _ Hello! _

_ Hello, _ said Oswald automatically, before steeling himself. _ I need your help. _

Forge was ready to tell Oswald about everything that had happened. But Faust interrupted before he got the chance. 

_ More new friend! _ Faust cried eagerly. 

She popped her head out of the grass and tried to go nose-to-nose with Oswald. Oswald was so startled he fell over. Faust, apparently deciding that this was some kind of new game, flopped down on the ground right along with him. 

Oswald hastily scrambled upright. _ Who are you? _

Forge quickly intervened. _ Faust friend. Very fun. Inanna friend, too. _

At least, Forge certainly _ hoped _ Inanna was a friend. But the way she looked rather amused wasn’t exactly reassuring. Nor was the way Oswald eyed Faust very warily. 

_ Are they safe? _ Oswald asked. 

_ Safe, _ Forge promised. 

Oswald tightened his wings around him a bit. And he kept a wary eye on Faust, who was having a lot of fun finding different ways to flop in the grass. But he kept talking to Forge nonetheless. 

_ I need your help, _ said Oswald. 

_ Help Meleia! _ Forge insisted. _ Trouble! Need prince! _

_ The prince is trapped, too, _ said Oswald. He seemed absolutely heartbroken. 

Inanna instantly lept into action._ Where is he? _

_ I can show you. _ Oswald tried to take to the air again, but his flight was wobbly. His wings could barely hold him up. 

Forge lurched forward. But Inanna was faster. She positioned herself right under Oswald. When Oswald dropped out of the sky again, he landed right on Inanna’s back with a little _ fwump _ sound. 

_ You’re worn out, _ Inanna said simply. _ You need rest. _

_ Rest, _ Forge agreed. 

Oswald tried to straighten up. _ I need to help... _

_Tell us where to go, _said Inanna. 

For a moment, Oswald looked like he wanted to protest. But he was too tired to do much of anything, let alone fly all the way back to... wherever he had come from. So, at last, he settled in to Inanna’s fur. And he raised a single shaky wing. 

_ That way. _

Inanna paused only a moment for Faust to slide onto her back along with Oswald, much to Oswald’s dismay. Then they were off, racing out of the garden and through the Vesuvian streets. Forge kept up with Inanna’s much larger strides through sheer determination. At least he didn’t have to worry about getting stepped on: Inanna had a way of clearing the crowds. 

Forge would never know how far they ran, or how long it took them. But, at last, they stopped near an old cave. 

_ The prince is in there? _ Inanna said doubtfully. 

Forge looked at the cavern. The entrance was completely blocked by tons of rocks and rubble. 

_ Sneak in? _ Faust suggested. 

Inanna made a sound that was almost like a laugh. _ No room, even for someone as small as you. _

_ Not small! _ Faust protested. _ Wiggly! _

Inanna just huffed out another laugh. 

But Forge didn’t feel like laughing. Not even remotely. His ears and tail drooped. He couldn’t see any way for them to even _ get _ to the prince, let alone help him get out of this. 

If the prince was even alive in the first place. Forge knew all too well how squished one would be if that much rock fell on them... 

Oswald’s ears twitched. Before any of the other animals could stop him, he started to take to the air again. 

_ I hear them. _ He took off, fluttering around the cavern. _ This way! _

Faust curled herself upside-down again. _ Them? _

But no one had an answer for her. They could only follow Oswald. 

By the time they caught up with the bat again, Oswald was sitting on the ground, staring intently at a very particular spot of dirt. 

_ Down there, _ he insisted. 

Forge stepped forward and sniffed at the spot. It didn’t smell like regular dirt. And, ever so faintly, he caught something familiar. Something that reminded him of that day in the town square, when he and Oswald had first met. 

_ Down there, _ he agreed. 

Faust popped her head over Inanna’s ears. _ Prince? _

_ And prince friend, _ said Forge, catching another, distinctly more ocean-like scent. 

He didn’t waste another second. He just started digging. He’d barely managed to make a dent in the dirt before Inanna joined him. The hole quickly grew under their paws... and it wasn’t long before they had completely broken through. 

Oswald instantly took to the air again, doing a quick circle to orient himself before diving straight down into the hole. He only spared a quick _ Thanks! _ before he had completely disappeared in the darkness. 

Forge didn’t hesitate. He didn’t think about where he might land. All he knew was that he had to help. And he wasn’t about to let Oswald go in there on his own. 

He leapt in right after Oswald. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close to the end! Updates may take longer because I'm completely caught up in another project but I promise we'll get there! I'm not going to abandon this fic any time soon!


	36. Nowhere to Go but Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we find a ray of hope.

“Find anything?” Damian called across the cavern. 

Julian sighed in frustration. “Nothing yet. Aside from far too many rocks.” 

Damian let out a bitter laugh. “If I weren’t a budding alchemist, I’d probably never want to see another rock in my life.” 

“Shame the castle is mostly made of stone,” Julian quipped right back. 

Damian snorted, his amusement genuine this time. “Yes, it really is.” 

Neither of them knew how long they had been trying to find their way out of the mine. So far, none of their efforts had worked. All of the walls were either solid or far too fragile to dig through. The last thing they wanted to do was risk _ another _ cave-in. 

“Have we tried this wall, yet?” asked Julian. 

Damian turned. Julian was standing on the complete opposite end of the cavern. Damian had to pull away from his own section of wall just to _ see _ Julian. Julian was half-hiding behind the old wooden beams that were the remnants of supports and mine shafts. Though the mine itself hadn’t been closed down for that long, it was clear that Lucio had found one of the most long-abandoned sections to toss them into. 

“I don’t think so,” Damian called back. 

At this point, he honestly wasn’t sure, but it was worth a try. 

“Right.” Julian took a few steps back and held out his hand. “Pickaxe,” he said, like a surgeon asking for a scalpel. 

The mental image made Damian smile as he handed over the axe. 

“Thanks, love,” said Julian, flashing Damian a grin. “Now stand back.” 

Damian quickly backpedaled. Julian swung the pickaxe against the stone. Damian was almost amazed that the tool had survived so many blows. And he couldn’t help but notice how well Julian handled this impromptu mining job. Julian was a lot stronger than he looked. Damian was privately glad he got the chance to appreciate that. 

Of course, he wished the opportunity could have come under very different circumstances. But at the moment, just being with Julian was enough to make the whole situation seem a little less dire. 

Julian attacked the wall for nearly a solid minute before anything changed. 

“Wait, stop!” Damian cried. 

Julian instantly tried to stop himself mid-swing. He only barely avoided falling over. 

“What?” he asked, panicked, “What is it? Is the ceiling coming down? Did I hit water? Am I about to flood the cavern?” 

“No, it’s...” Damian paused, only then fully registering what Julian had said. “No, you are _ not _ going to flood the cavern. Why would anyone make a mine so close to a water source?” 

Julian flushed. “Ah. Well, I suppose that would be a bit foolish, wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” said Damian, “which is exactly why I’m not worried about that.” 

“But I still needed to stop digging,” said Julian, clearly trying to put the pieces together. 

“For the moment,” said Damian, who was enjoying being as unhelpful as possible. It was a nice lead-up to the big reveal. “Look.” 

He stepped right up next to Julian and scraped at the wall, digging in with his bare hands. He brushed away some errant dirt, revealing something small and somewhat silvery. 

“What is it?” Julian asked. 

Damian scraped some more dirt away, revealing several more of what he had just found. 

“Crystals,” said Damian. “Rare ones, too. I’ve been studying these for years, but I only have a few samples. They’re _ very _ hard to come by. If we work carefully, we might be able to reopen this mine.” 

Julian grinned. “And if these crystals are as rare as all that...” 

“They could bolster Vesuvia’s finances!" Damian cried triumphantly. “Julian, we might be able to save Vesuvia ourselves!” 

Julian let out an absolutely gleeful laugh. “Damian, darling, you’re an absolute _ genius!"_

He scooped Damian up, giddily twirling him around. Damian burst out laughing right along with him. Both of them knew this wasn’t anywhere near the end of their problems, but neither of them could resist a little celebration. Even if Julian did misjudge his turn and nearly send Damian careening into a wall. Damian didn’t even care that he stumbled when Julian quickly put him back down. The thought of finding a solution, of discovering a way to save his kingdom _ and _ stay with Julian, was so wonderful that his heart felt like it could burst. 

“Got a bit carried away there, didn’t I?” said Julian guiltily the instant Damian was back on his feet. He started trying to brush off Damian’s tunic. “Sorry about that...” 

“It’s fine,” Damian laughed. “But we should probably save the celebration for later. Once we’re out of here.” 

Julian cleared his throat. “Right. Of course. So. We should find a wall that _ doesn’t _ have crystals that might potentially save our--” 

He was abruptly cut off by the sound of splintering wood. Julian instantly yanked Damian back, putting himself between Damian and the wall. Damian looked around frantically, trying to figure out what was breaking. Was one of the support beams coming down? After all their work, were they truly going to be crushed? 

A few planks of old, rotted wood clattered to the floor. Both Julian and Damian held their breath. They were both tense, fight or flight instincts kicking in. 

There was a tiny clatter. And something fluttered into the cavern, wings flapping madly. 

Damian instantly rushed forward. “Oswald!” 

He just managed to get under the bat before Oswald fell out of the sky. Damian quickly caught him and hugged him close to his chest. 

“Oswald, are you alright?” Damian asked breathlessly. “How in the world did you get here?” 

Oswald let out an exhausted little chirp. He snuggled into Damian’s shirt. Damian gently stroked his ears. He was worried about Oswald, of course, but a part of him was just happy that they were together again. 

Julian stepped forward. “Think someone found him? He must have figured out where Lucio stashed us... maybe he went for help.” 

Damian pulled his attention away from Oswald for long enough to notice that their dark cavern was suddenly a bit brighter. Julian walked right into the faint shaft of light and squinted up at the ceiling. 

“Looks like this was an old mine shaft,” said Julian. “I don’t know how he did it, but Oswald must have broken right through the...” 

He was cut off once again, though this time Damian wasn’t sure why. Not until Julian took two quick steps back and held out his hands. Something orange-ish and distinctly fuzzy plopped right into his arms. Julian let out a slight grunt, staggering under the sudden weight. 

Damian rushed forward. A small fox was nestled in Julian’s grip. 

“Hello,” said Julian, startled. “Where did you come from?” 

“Is that...?” Damian breathed. 

“Meleia’s fox,” Julian confirmed. 

“Do you think Meleia’s here?” Damian instantly surged past Julian and shouted up into the empty mine shaft. “Hello? Can anyone hear me? We’re down here!” 

The only reply was a streak of something almost silver tumbling down the shaft. The next thing Damian knew, something rope-like fwumped right on top of his shoulders. 

“And... that must be the Majestro’s snake,” said Julian. He sounded utterly bemused. 

Sure enough, the silvery-purple snake slipped off of Damian’s shoulders, wiggling in a very joyful sort of way. Damian laughed. 

“Oswald must have led them all here,” said Damian. He gave Oswald a little scratch under his tiny chin. “You little genius, you!” 

Oswald made a sound that was very close to purring. He looked very proud of himself. 

“Looks like we’ve been going about this the wrong way,” said Julian, hopping awkwardly as he tried to gently dislodge the Majestro’s snake from his boot. “If we want to get _ out, _ we’re going to have to head _ up."_

“But how?” Damian asked. “This shaft hasn’t been used in years. There aren’t any ropes or anything lying around. And we only have one axe, so we can’t exactly use it as a climbing tool...” 

“We might be able to find some handholds,” said Julian. He stepped up to the wall again, inspecting it. “Shame these crystals aren’t bigger. They’re still rough at the edges. Would have made great purchase for our feet...” 

Damian let out a sigh of frustration. “I could have done something about that if I had that snow-silver...” 

Julian raised an eyebrow. “The stuff from Dhakhar?” 

“Yes,” Damian sighed. “It really speeds up crystal growth, remember? But I left it back at my...” 

Oswald interrupted with a very agitated peep. He extricated one wing from Damian’s gentle grip and flapped towards Damian’s pocket. 

Damian’s eyes widened. “Wait. I... _ didn’t _ leave it behind, did I?” 

“What do you mean?” Julian asked. “Damian...” 

“Hold onto him,” said Damian, unceremoniously shoving Oswald at his very confused tutor. 

Julian staggered back even as he instinctively grabbed Oswald. “Wha--?” 

Damian didn’t even hear him. He dove into his pocket. Sure enough, his hand closed around the bottle of snow-silver. 

“Let’s just hope this works...” he murmured.

The bottle was little more than halfway full. Damian would have to play this very carefully. He put the bottle on the floor, opened it, and scraped away at the cork it until he had carved out a little chunk. He stopped the bottle up again, inspecting his handiwork. Hopefully, if he’d done it right, he had managed to make a sort of dropper. 

Well. There was only one way to find out. 

Carefully, slowly, hardly daring to breathe, Damian tipped a few drops of snow-silver onto one of the exposed crystals. 

It grew faster than Damian had ever expected. A fist-sized chunk nearly shot out of the wall. 

Julian gave a low gave a low whistle. “So _ that’s _ what you were so excited about...” 

“It worked...” Damian breathed. He couldn’t believe his luck. “It’s actually working...” 

He scraped the dirt away from another crystal and repeated the process. And he got the same exact effect as before. In a few moments, he’d managed to set up a nice line of foothold-sized crystals that stretched as high as he could reach. 

“Not bad,” said Julian. “What now?” 

Damian squared his shoulders. “Now for the tricky part.” 

Julian instantly figured out what Damina was about to try to do. “Damian, hold on, you shouldn’t just...” 

“I’ll go first,” Damian said firmly. “That way I can finish making this... ladder. Thing.” 

“Wait, Damian, I can’t let you--”

“Besides...” Damian flashed Julian a grin. “If I fall, you’ll be there to catch me, right?” 

For a long moment, Julian looked almost incredulous. Then he sighed, clearly giving up. And he managed a smile. 

“Every time,” Julian promised. 

Damian’s own smile softened. Gods, he loved this man. 

All the more reason to get out of there as soon as they could. 

Apparently, Oswald wasn’t going to let Damian attempt this venture on his own. Oswald fluttered off of Julian’s shoulder and plunked himself down on Damian’s head. Damian chuckled. 

“What?” he teased. “Thought I was going to leave you behind?” 

Oswald’s only reply was twining his little bat claws into Damian’s hair. 

Damian snorted. “Alright. I get it. Let’s go.” 

It was long, hard, careful work. And it took much more coordination than Damian had ever thought he had. He came very close to dropping the bottle of snow-silver more than once. Thankfully, Oswald was always there to zip off of his head and make sure the bottle didn’t get too far away. And Damian was certainly bolstered by Julian’s near-constant encouragement. Even the occasional swear words that echoed through the cavern when Damian slipped up were oddly heartening. 

At last, trembling with exhaustion, Damian reached the top. He managed to haul himself out of what was apparently a hole in the ground. And he collapsed against the dirt, breathing heavily, every part of him aching. At this point, he wasn’t even surprised that there was a big brown and black wolf waiting for him. It didn’t even seem to matter. He was just so glad to taste fresh air again. 

“Damian?” Julian’s voice echoed from the mines. “Are you alright? Did you make it?”

Damian gulped down a few more deep breaths before he had collected himself enough to sit up and shout back down to Julian. 

“I’m fine,” he called. “It’s safe.”

Julian’s reply sounded distinctly relieved, though Damian couldn’t make out the words. Which was probably a good thing. 

“What about you?” Damian shouted down. “Think you can make it up here?” 

Julian’s glorious laugh seemed to fill the night air. 

“No trouble at all,” he boasted. “I’m a regular rigging monkey. This will be nothing compared to fixing up the sails in the middle of a raging pirate battle.” 

“Oh?” Said Damian lightly. “You’ll have to tell me that story when we get back to the palace. Or maybe as some entertainment on the way there?”

“Ah, to serve as the prince’s personal bard,” Julian chuckled. “It’s hard to imagine a higher honor.” 

“Sounds like another addition to your long list of past lives,” Damian teased. 

“If they lead me to your side, then I’d live a thousand more,” Julian called back. 

Damian was privately glad that Julian couldn't possibly see how red he had gotten. 

“Are you going to keep flirting, or are you actually going to get up here?” he called. 

Julian laughed again. “I’m on my way, love.” 

Damian shook his head. But that didn’t stop a very fond smile from playing across his lips. Nor did it do anything to help lower his suddenly very rapid pulse. 

Despite all of Julian’s bravado, there was quite a lot of scrambling and hastily bitten-off swears before his signature mop of auburn hair popped out of the mine shaft. Part of that was probably due to the fact that he had a fox clinging desperately to his shoulders and a snake dangling quite happily off of his forearm. The snake looked for all the world like it were having the time of its life. Julian, on the other hand, was looking very harried. 

Damian rushed to help Julian climb back onto solid ground the moment Julian’s head emerged into the open air. 

“You alright?” Damian asked, worried. 

Julian instantly flopped onto his stomach. He let out a long sigh. 

“Next time,” he mumbled, “_you’re _ carrying the snake.” 

The snake made its opinion on the matter very clear by curling up on Julian’s back and tucking its head under its coils. It looked the absolute picture of comfort. 

Damian chuckled. He scooped the snake up, gathering it in his own arms. “Do you need a minute?” he asked Julian. 

“No, no.” Julian pushed himself up, waving Damian’s concerns away. “Like I said. That was nothing.” 

Damian very much doubted that the climb was “nothing.” But Julian hauled himself up to his feet and dusted himself off as though climbing out of an old mine shaft were the most natural thing in the world. Still, Damian allowed Julian a little longer to collect himself than was strictly necessary. He used the time to take in the scenery. The animals were all huddled together, looking, in turns, relieved (Forge), proud of themselves (Oswald), and rather bored with this whole thing (the wolf). The Majestro’s snake had decided that Damian’s arm was just as fun to swing from as Julian’s. Damian helpfully stretched his arm out a bit as he glanced around. The sun was starting to come up. 

“Lucio must have reached the palace a long time ago,” Damian mused, more to himself than anything. 

Julian nodded. “You’re right. No doubt he’s already set his little plan in motion.” 

Damian let the snake slither onto his shoulders. He gestured for Oswald. Oswald went right back to his perch in Damian’s hair. 

“We need to get moving,” Damian announced. 

Julian gave him a nervous sort of look. “Are you sure you’re alright? You look exhausted. And I can’t even imagine what you must have gone through...” 

“It doesn’t matter,” said Damian firmly. “We can’t let Lucio get away with this.” 

“He won’t,” Julian promised. “We’ll stop him. But let me take care of you, first.” 

“I’m fine,” Damian insisted. 

“You need rest,” Julian shot back. 

Damian shook his head. “I can’t. Not now. Not until we’ve fixed this.” 

Julian sighed. “I know, I know, but Damian... it’s a long walk back to the palace.”

“Then we’d better get started,” said Damian. 

Julian sighed. “Damian, please, I don’t think a few minutes will make much of--” 

“I’ll rest when this is all over,” said Damian. “I promise.” 

Julian gave a sort of half-smile. “I’ll hold you to that. Fine, then. Shall we?” 

Neither of them needed to say anything more. They didn’t even need the wolf’s encouraging huff. They just ran, their small army of animal scurrying behind them as they raced back to the palace. 

Damian could only hope they wouldn’t be too late.

They would get there in time to set things right. They _ had _ to. 


	37. Breakout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a song is all it takes.

Meleia cried herself to sleep that night. 

At least, as close to any semblance of sleep as she could possibly get. 

Her entire world had been torn into pieces. She almost didn’t even care that she was locked in the palace dungeons. It didn’t remotely matter what happened to her at the end of all this. 

She’d failed. Everyone had been counting on her, and she had let them all down. Damian was dead. Probably Julian, too. Asra had watched her be hauled away as a criminal. She didn’t even know where Forge went. Maybe he’d abandoned her, too. She almost hoped so. He didn’t deserve to get in trouble. He deserved to live. 

But Meleia deserved whatever punishment was coming to her. 

They were probably discussing it right then. They were up there, deciding her fate, while she lay there on the worn wooden bench that served as the only semblance of furniture in her dark, dank cell. At least she wasn’t chained to the wall. Not that that fact did much to comfort her. 

She didn’t think anything would. 

Everything she had done. All the things Julian had taught her. All the time she spent at the palace. All of it was for nothing.

She couldn’t hold back a mournful sigh. Some princess she’d turned out to be... 

Eventually, sunlight started to creep into the tiny window set near the ceiling of her cell. Meleia slowly pushed herself up. She tried to wipe the tear stains from her cheeks. It was a pretty fruitless effort. After that, there wasn’t much else she could do but slump against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest. 

She didn’t stir until she heard a commotion outside. Several people stomped past in heavy boots. And someone was shouting orders. Then there were other voices, talking all over each other. Meleia couldn’t really make out any of the words, but it was obvious that something big was happening. It almost sounded like they were building something. Her mind instantly shot to gallows. Was she enough of a criminal to be hanged? 

Curiosity and fear warring in her, Meleia stood up on the rickety bench, bracing herself against the wall. She still couldn’t see out the tiny window. 

“What are they doing out there...?” she murmured to herself. 

She nearly fell off the bench when someone answered. 

“Her Majesty’s wedding ceremony will commence at noon,” said the soldier guarding her cell. 

Meleia peeled herself away from the wall that she had clung to in an attempt to steady herself. 

“The Queen’s getting married?” she asked. 

The guard nodded. 

“To _ who?_” Meleia blurted out. 

She practically tripped onto the floor and dashed up to the bars of her cell. Only when she gripped the bars and tried to stick her face through the gap did she realize who her guard was. It was Ludovico, the same soldier that she and Asra had escaped in the garden. 

Ludovico shifted awkwardly. “It’s not exactly something I’m supposed to discuss with prisoners...” 

Meleia almost laughed. “I can’t do anything about it from in here. Even if I wanted to. I just... I wanted to know.” 

Ludovico was silent for a long time. Meleia started to pull away, heading back towards the makeshift bed. 

“Her Majesty is going to wed Count Lucio,” said Ludovico abruptly. 

Meleia stopped short. Her blood ran cold. She let out a little gasp. 

Lucio was marrying the Queen? The thought made her heart pound in sheer terror. Apparently, murdering both Damian and Julian and stopping the union between Vesuvia and Zadith wasn’t enough for him. Lucio was going to take over the entire kingdom. 

And she was the only one who knew. 

“No...” she whispered. 

For a moment, she felt just as helpless as ever. If not even more helpless than before. Then determination took over. 

Meleia whirled around. She threw herself at the bars again. 

“Ludovico, please, I have to talk to the Queen!” she begged. 

Ludovico shook his head. “Impossible. She’s very busy with her preparations. 

“It’s an emergency!” Meleia said urgently. 

“It can wait until after the wedding,” said Ludovico. 

“It’s _ about _ the wedding!” Meleia cried. “It... it might even be life or death!” 

Ludovico shifted uncomfortably. But he said nothing. 

“Please, Ludovico, you have to listen to me!” Meleia tried to crane her neck enough to look him in the eye, but the bars made that impossible. “Just let me talk to Nadia!” 

Ludovico visibly stiffened. “You have no right to refer to Her Majesty by her name.” 

There were a thousand things Meleia could have said. She could have told them that she was friends with the Queen, that they had been on the same side, that Nadia had trusted her, that she had trusted Nadia in return. She could have told him right then and there that this was all Lucio’s fault. 

But any words died in Meleia’s throat. Mostly because she felt he was right. She was nothing more than a commoner, locked away in the dungeons. What right did she have to say the Queen’s name, let alone call the Queen her friend? 

Slowly, she sank down to her knees. She simply didn’t have the strength to stand up anymore. Her hands still clung desperately onto the bars, as though still hoping for some way to escape. 

She had to fix this. She had to stop Lucio. But there was nothing she could possibly do. 

She stayed slumped there for a long time. Then she heard a very distinctive voice from the other side of the window. A voice that was complaining very loudly about the tablecloths being _ pearl _ when they should have been _ ivory. _

Lucio. He was out there, getting ready for the wedding. 

Instinctively, not really knowing what she intended to do, Meleia started to pull herself to her feet. But she froze when Ludovico let out a frustrated sigh. 

“Are you alright?” she asked automatically. 

“Just fine,” said Ludovico, just as instinctively. “I only wish the Count were more careful with his volume, but he tends to--” 

He abruptly cut himself off. Then he glanced at her in surprise. 

“Sorry,” Meleia mumbled. “Did I say something wrong?” 

Ludovico coughed awkwardly. “Not wrong, no. I simply... didn’t expect such concern from a prisoner. It’s unusual.” 

Once again Meleia had the bizarre urge to laugh. “I guess I’m not a usual prisoner.” 

“No,” Ludovico agreed sadly. “Certainly not.” 

For the first time, a spark of hope lit in Meleia’s heart. She leaned as close to her guard as the bars would allow. 

“Ludovico,” she said softly, “you’ve been guarding the Queen for a long time, right? Long before I came to the palace?” 

“I do all that I can to ensure Her Majesty’s safety,” said Ludovico proudly. 

“Did you ever think she was in danger when I was with her?” Meleia asked. 

It was a long moment before Ludovico answered. 

“No,” Ludovico admitted. “Not at first.” 

“Did I ever have any weapons on me?” Meleia pressed. 

“No...” 

“So if you think about it, I could have attacked the Queen at any point if I really wanted to,” said Meleia. 

“Perhaps you did not want the Majestro to get involved in your scheme,” said Ludovico. 

He didn’t sound like he believed it. Meleia seized her chance. 

“Didn’t the Count say that the Majestro was _ part _ of my plan?” she asked. “But we never did anything to the Queen. I hadn’t even _ met _ the Majestro until I arrived. Doesn’t it all seem a little suspicious to you?” 

Ludovico shifted again. He even switched his spear to his other hand, which had the added bonus of taking it farther away from Meleia. It also made the keys on his belt jingle, which made Meleia realize he had the keys in the first place. She didn’t fully know what to do with that information yet, but it made her feel a little better nonetheless. 

“My duty is to the Queen,” he said at length. “I follow her orders. I keep her safe.” 

“She’s not going to be safe if she marries Lucio!” Meleia cried. 

Ludovico instantly tensed. “Why? What do you know?” 

Meleia bit her lip. She’d messed up. Again. But the best thing she could do was try to fix it. Ludovico wasn’t going to believe her. But Nadia might. She just had to keep trying. 

“Let me talk to the Queen,” she begged. “I’ll tell her everything.” 

“I cannot allow you to leave your cell,” said Ludovico stiffly. 

“Then bring her here,” said Meleia. 

“She has no time to speak to prisoners,” Ludovico snapped. “And I dare not take that risk.” 

“What risk?” Meleia demanded. “I’m stuck in here! I don’t even have any weapons! I can’t do anything to her!” 

Ludovico just huffed. “I will not have the Queen come to the dungeons without a fully armed escort.” 

“Fine!” Meleia cried. “Then get an escort! I need to talk to her! _ Please!"_

Ludovico was silent. 

Meleia sighed in sheer frustration. “Can you send a message to her, then? Tell her that she can’t marry the Count?” 

“I must remain at my post,” said Ludovico. 

Meleia slumped to her knees again. Wonderful. She couldn’t even convince a guard that she’d spent a decent amount of time with that she was innocent. 

Wait. Now that she thought about it, she didn’t think she’d heard or seen any changing of the guard. 

“How long have you been down here?” Meleia asked. 

“I don’t think that’s particularly important,” said Ludovico awkwardly. 

“It’s probably important to you,” said Meleia. “Did you get any sleep?” 

Ludovico’s silence was the only answer Meleia needed. 

“You’ve been here all night, haven’t you?” she said sympathetically. 

“I do what I must for Her Majesty,” said Ludovico. 

Meleia sighed. “And since the Queen is so busy getting ready for the wedding...” She almost gagged on the word _ wedding, _ the thought of anyone marrying Lucio making her sick, but she plowed on. “I guess that means we’re both going to be stuck down here for a while.” 

Once again, Ludovico gave np reply. And, just like before, Meleia didn’t even need one. 

She stole a glance at the guard. He was staring off into the endless dungeon corridors, pointedly ignoring her. Her eyes trailed to the keys on his belt. A plan started to form. She felt bad about it. She wouldn’t ever do something like this, wouldn’t ever risk getting Ludovico in trouble, if things weren’t so desperate. But she really didn’t have much of a choice. 

“You should get some rest,” Meleia suggested. 

“On duty?” Ludovico asked, scandalized. 

“You’ve been up all night,” said Meleia. “And like you said... the Queen’s busy. She won’t be able to check up on us. And I doubt Lucio cares about what happens to either of us.” 

Ludovico shifted uncomfortably. 

“Besides, it’s not like I can go anywhere,” Meleia went on. 

Ludovico humphed. He resolutely straightened his back, standing taller than before. It was like he was trying to prove he wasn’t exhausted. Which just made Meleia all the more convinced that he was _ completely _ exhausted. 

“Do you at least have a place to sit?” Meleia asked. 

Ludovico was still for a long moment. Then, gruffly, he scooted to the left a bit and grabbed an old wooden stool. He slid the stool right next to Meleia’s cell and sat down. His movements were slow and wary, the picture of a perfect guard. 

That just made Meleia feel worse about the whole thing. But she knew what she needed to do. She was the only one who could stop Lucio. And if Lucio was willing to murder Damian and Julian just to get what he wanted, Meleia didn’t want to imagine what he might do to Nadia to ensure he would claim the crown. 

So she put her half-baked plan into motion. 

“Do you mind if I sing?” she asked. 

“Why?” Ludovico demanded. 

Meleia wasn’t sure if he was asking why he would mind or why she wanted to sing. She decided the latter made more sense. 

“It helps me pass the time,” she said. “I can just hum if you’re worried about... I don’t know, me passing a secret message or something.” 

She meant it as a joke, but Ludovico seemed to give it some serious consideration. 

“Fine,” he said at last. “Sing if you want. It’s not going to help you.” 

_ It might be the only thing that CAN help me, _Meleia thought. 

So she sang. 

She’d chosen her song very carefully. It was a lullaby. The same lullaby that had always managed to calm Volta down enough for her to get some sleep whenever Valerius was being particularly nasty. Hopefully, it would have the same effect on the guard. 

She was just lucky he’d chosen to sit so close to her. And lucky her hands could fit through the bars. 

Meleia was halfway through the third repeat of her lullaby by the time she heard Ludovico start softly snoring. Still singing, Meleia reached forward as slowly and carefully as possible. She softly closed her hand around the keys themselves, minimizing the noise. Using all of the skills at handling fabric without bothering the customers that she’d picked up at the shop, she carefully unbuttoned the loop around his belt and let the keyring fall silently against her hand. She was so nervous and tense that she would have been holding her breath if she hadn’t been busy singing. In all honesty, the singing was probably the only thing keeping her from panicking. 

She _ needed _ this to work. 

Thankfully, there were only three keys on the ring. Trying to turn the lock without making much noise was difficult, but she managed to get away with it by singing a little louder. Though she probably didn’t need to bother. Ludovico was snoring in earnest now, which was more than loud enough to disguise the rattling of keys. 

At last, she heard a definite click. And the cell door creaked open. 

She was free. 

Meleia pushed the door a little bit, just enough to slide herself through. She didn’t even bother to take the keys out of the lock. And she only stopped her song when she started running. 

She’d barely gone a few steps before there was a heavy clang. Ludovico had dropped his spear. Judging by the shouting that quickly followed, he must have jolted awake... and started chasing after her. 

Meleia instantly turned a corner, hoping to lose her pursuer. Getting lost was the last thing on her mind. She didn’t know where she was in the first place, so it didn’t seem to matter where she went. 

There had to be a way out. She just had to get to it. 

So she ran. She dashed down corridor after corridor, past cell after cell. Thankfully, the rest were all empty. Lucio hadn’t done anything too terrible. Yet.

Then she heard heavy footsteps pounding behind her, along with clanking armor. Ludovico had caught up. Desperate, Meleia dove around a corner... and right into the grasp of another armed guard. 

“No!” she screamed. “No, please, let me _ go!_” 

She tried to yank free, but the guard had a firm grip on both her wrists. And Ludovico rounded the corner a second later. 

“Well done, soldier,” he said. “She made an escape attempt. I’m glad you were here to catch her.” 

“I’ve come to take her to the palace,” the new guard replied. Their voice was oddly distorted by the helmet that covered their entire face. 

Ludovico eyed the guard suspiciously. “But I was told...” 

“Orders from the top,” said the guard. 

Meleia’s heart pounded. The top? Did that mean the Queen? Or Lucio? 

Either way, the guard’s comment shut Ludovico up. He gave a nod. “Of course. Would you like any assistance?” 

“No need,” said the other guard, already dragging Meleia away. “I’ll take care of this one myself.” 

That was the last thing Meleia wanted to hear. She instantly started struggling again. But the guard didn’t even flinch. They simply hauled her further down the corridor. In an instant, Ludovico had vanished. 

Now was her chance. 

“I said let _ go! _” Meleia cried. 

Automatically, she stomped on the guard’s foot. She expected the move to be useless, to really only hurt her own foot as her soft slippers made contact with metal armor. But the guard was only wearing normal leather boots. 

“Ow!” the guard cried, sounding more surprised than really hurt. 

Their grip loosened for a split second, but the next instant they had grabbed Meleia again and turned her to face them.

“What are you--?” 

Meleia’s question was cut short when the guard laughed. 

“Alright, I admit, I deserved that,” they chuckled. 

They took off their helmet, revealing a mop of fluffy white hair. And they flashed a very familiar, very mischievous smile. 

Meleia gasped. “_Asra?_” 

The Majestro’s grin only widened. He inclined his head in a cheeky sort of bow. 

Meleia instantly flushed. She’d betrayed him. Lied to him. She didn’t have any right to call him by his first name. Nor did she have any right to ask him for help. 

But she didn’t exactly have anyone else to turn to. Besides, she couldn’t stand the thought of never getting a chance to explain. She had to try to make amends. 

“Majestro, please, listen, I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s alright,” Asra said quickly, cutting her off again. “Actually, I... I came down here to come find you.” 

Meleia’s heart did a funny little flip. “You did?” 

“I don’t think you’re the person Lucio says you are,” said Asra softly. “And I don’t think you meant to hurt anyone.” 

Meleia couldn’t believe her ears. “But... but I lied to you. I didn’t tell you who I was, and I...” 

She trailed off. Asra was laughing again. Meleia managed a weak smile as she finally realized the joke. 

“You _ did _ say something about some secrets needing to be kept, didn’t you?” she said slowly. 

“I did,” said Asra rather cheekily. “Not to mention that I was the first one to avoid telling everyone who I was. Sometimes it’s better to be someone else, isn’t it?” 

As he spoke, he undid his heavy armor and let it fall to the floor. He was wearing the same rather simple clothing he’d worn as the Ambassador. Meleia smiled. Here she was, in her by-now disheveled royal dress, standing before the Majestro in peasant clothes. What a pair they made.

“Where did you get that armor, anyway?” Meleia asked. 

“You can thank Portia for that,” he answered. 

Meleia gasped. “Portia! She’s alright? Lucio didn’t...?” 

“Lucio hasn’t done anything to her,” Asra assured her. “Or to us. Muriel and I haven’t even been kicked out of the castle yet.” 

“But... you could have left,” Meleia said slowly. “You didn’t have to get caught up in all this.” 

Asra flushed a bit. “For a moment, I wanted to. But I was more worried about you.” 

“But I...”

“You never once did anything to hurt anyone,” Asra said firmly. “And I admit, I don’t trust Lucio.” 

“You shouldn’t,” Meleia blurted out. “Asra, he’s trying to take over Vesuvia. He’s going to marry the Queen!” 

Asra grimaced. “I know. Portia’s really upset about it. When she found us in the library, she--” 

“What were you doing in the library?” Meleia asked. Then she shook her head. “Wait, no, we can worry about that later! We have to stop the wedding! Can you... will you help me?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” said Asra with a grin. He took her hand, much more gently this time. “Come on. Portia’s waiting for us.” 

“So she’s really going to help us?” Meleia asked as Asra led her down yet another corridor. 

“She’s the reason I managed to get down here,” Asra explained. “She knows every tunnel in the palace... including the one that leads right to the armory.” 

He flashed Meleia another sly sort of grin. Meleia didn’t manage to return it. 

“I just hope you won’t end up needing that armor,” she said nervously. “Who knows what Lucio’s going to do when we crash the wedding?” 

“I won’t let him get to you,” said Asra firmly. 

Meleia sighed. “That’s not what I’m worried about.” 

She didn’t have time to say any more. They turned one last corner, and Portia appeared as though out of nowhere. She was dressed in a horrendously crimson gown that clashed magnificently with her hair, along with a gaudy golden apron. Meleia could only assume that this was the uniform for the servers at Lucio’s wedding. 

“Oh, good, you got her,” Portia said breathlessly. “The wedding’s just about to start. Lucio’s already at the altar.”

“And the Queen?” Meleia asked. 

“She’s... safe,” said Portia, her eyes tearing up. “Right now, anyway. But she was so miserable, and... and I...” 

She sniffled. Meleia opened her arms for a hug. Portia allowed a small squeeze before pulling away, wiping her eyes. 

“Muriel’s keeping watch,” she said stiffly. “He’ll be there if anything... anything happens.” 

“What can we do to help?” Meleia asked immediately. 

Portia sighed. She nervously fiddled with the ties on her apron. 

“I... I don’t actually know,” she admitted. 

“Easy,” said Asra. “We expose Lucio for the coward and the fraud that he is.” 

“How?” Portia asked. 

Asra didn’t reply. He just glanced at Meleia. In his eyes, she saw the same thing he’d told her in the garden. 

_ Trust me. _

And Meleia still did. She gave a firm nod. 

“We can do this,” she said. “Portia, the wedding’s outside, right?” 

“In the courtyard,” Portia confirmed. “This way.” 

They didn’t waste any more time on words. They just ran, weaving through the tunnels until they burst into the bright sunlight. 

Meleia had no real plan. She had no idea what she was supposed to do. 

But she knew she had to try. 


	38. The Bells Toll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lucio gets to flaunt.

Lucio was absolutely in his element. 

The decorations were being put up as fast as they possibly could, and Lucio was still fully within his rights to yell at the servants to make them go faster. The band he had booked just for this glorious occasion was already tuning up, which just allowed him to be louder as he berated the other servants for their terrible choice in tablecloths. He had the final say on absolutely every single detail. He had people scrambling to achieve his every whim. It was his first real taste of power. 

He  _ loved _ it. 

Even his cohorts were right where Lucio needed them for once. Vulgora had been appointed as head of security for the event. They were skulking around in polished armor, being generally intimidating. They looked like they were having the time of their life. Vlastomil, who had been a praetor before he decided to follow his rather disgusting passion of studying worms, had dusted off his old suit and brushed up on his readings. He was ready to officially, legally have Lucio and Nadia wed. 

There was only one thing missing. But, of course, Lucio understood. And he would give his darling Noddy all the time she needed. 

It took quite a while to alter an old dress into a wedding gown. Especially one worthy of the Queen of Vesuvia. And Lucio deserved the most beautiful bride in the kingdom. 

So after yelling at the staff a bit more for many of them not being in the red-and-gold outfits he had specifically designed for the occasion, he strode back into the palace and right up to the Queen’s chambers. He didn’t even knock. There was no reason. In no time at all, he would be king. A king could go wherever he wanted. 

Besides, he loved the way the dressmaids scrambled out of his way when he dramatically tossed the door open. 

Nadia, on the other hand, hardly spared him a glance. Lucio was miffed about that for a moment, but then he realized she was looking at his reflection in the special, three-fold mirror. She stood before it on a pedestal while tailors rushed to finish their alterations on an old pale purple gown. It was  _ weeks _ out of style, of course, but they had managed to make it look pretty good. 

“Hello, Lucio,” said Nadia, her tone nearly a sigh. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait a bit longer. We aren’t quite finished yet.” 

“Noddy, is that the way to greet your husband?” Lucio crooned. “Perhaps I was just coming to check up on you.” 

“Indeed?” said Nadia smoothly. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, as I am not well versed in weddings, but I believe it is considered bad luck to see the bride before she walks down the aisle.” 

Lucio laughed. “Oh, no need to worry about  _ that  _ useless old folktale. Nothing could possibly go wrong today.” 

Nadia didn’t reply. Though she didn’t exactly look thrilled, either. Pre-wedding jitters, perhaps. Nothing that Lucio couldn’t handle. 

He strode to her side, smirking when tailors rushed out of his way. And he struck a pose. 

“Look at you,” he said proudly. “And look at  _ me. _ Look at me, looking at you!” 

“Was there a point to this ramble, or are you simply trying to find the perfect phrasing for your incredibly self-serving speech?” Nadia said coldly. 

Lucio dramatically clutched at his chest, thankfully with his non-golden arm. “Why, Noddy, you  _ wound _ me! I was simply saying that we make a  _ beautiful _ couple!” 

Nadia stared into the mirror. She wasn’t even looking at Lucio. Lucio wasn’t sure if she was looking at her own reflection, either. Her face was drawn, exhausted. 

Not that Lucio particularly cared. 

“We’ll be the talk of all Vesuvia, my dear,” he said proudly. 

“There are things that are far more important than gossip about our wedding ensembles,” said Nadia. 

“Right,” Lucio agreed. “Like the celebrations that are sure to begin when the people learn of their hero!” 

He struck another pose, hands on his hips, standing sideways as though expecting someone to instantly rush in and paint a portrait of him. He certainly looked worthy of one, though there was little difference between his usual ensemble and his wedding outfit. That fur-lined cape was  _ vintage, _ after all. No, instead of replacing the cape he’d simply gotten himself a brand new suit adorned with gold, and he had pinned several medals onto his jacket as well. That, and he had gotten new boots for the occasion. He’d ordered servants to polish them until they gleamed. His golden arm had been freshly polished as well. He’d taken the claw attachments off of his fingers for the moment, making it look more like an actual, presentable hand. It would be hard to hold his beautiful bride’s hand with a razor-sharp talon, after all. He’d hidden the claws away in his belt, of course, so he could put them right back on when the wedding was over. 

But Nadia didn’t seem to care about how spruced up he was. She didn’t even seem to  _ notice _ . 

And Lucio  _ hated _ that. 

“Come on, Noddy,” he urged. “You should be smiling! You’re about to become my bride, after all!” 

“Make no mistake,” Nadia snapped. “I do not do this out of any romantic attraction. I am only marrying you to save my people.  _ Our _ people.” 

Lucio shrugged. “Eh, I’ll take what I can get.” 

Nadia scowled. 

“Well, it must be nearly time to get started.” He whirled on one of the tailors that remained huddled awkwardly in the corner. “You! How much longer until Noddy’s gown is finished?” 

“I-it should only be a few minutes, sir,” the tailor stuttered. “Th-that is, Your Majesty.” 

Lucio grinned. He would never get tired of being called  _ Your Majesty. _

“No need to refer to him in that way,” said Nadia, sounding bitter. “He has not been crowned yet.” 

“But I will be,” said Lucio. “Before the day is out. So why not get that practice in?” 

He let out a laugh, like a child who had just opened not only his birthday presents but another kid’s gifts as well and gotten away with it. And with that, he swept right back out of the room. 

“See you in the courtyard, my darling,” he called to Nadia. “It’s almost time for the show!” 

Naturally, he was right. But it was far too easy for him to be right, since the show, quite literally, started when he walked in. No one had any idea how Lucio managed to find time to plan this, let alone set it all up. But Lucio simply would not have a wedding without making it a spectacle. 

It started with the horses. The entire retinue of royal steeds paraded down the aisle, expertly guided by Nadia’s personal stablehands. Lucio’s white horses took the lead. Appleberry trailed behind, which made Lucio scowl for just a moment. Then he saw that Damian’s favorite horse, the wild Lysinger, was actually falling in line. Getting Lysinger to behave was a feat that was almost impossible. And according to the whispers in the crowd, quite a few people knew that. 

The crowd, of course, was made up of as many nobles as Lucio could find in short notice. Granted, working alongside Valerius made this much simpler. Especially when Valerius did most of the work. It was a shame, really, that Valerius couldn’t make it. He would have been very impressed. Ah, well. Lucio would simply have to hire Valerius to be his personal tailor when the ceremony was over. 

He had quite a bit of splendor and revelry to get through before he had to worry about  _ that. _

After the horses finished their parade, bird handlers released two dozen white doves into the sky. That got a much better response, lots of  _ oohs _ and  _ aahs _ from the crowd. Then came the acrobat troupe, which was almost as impressive. 

Finally, it was Lucio’s turn. 

He strode to the altar with a dazzling grin, waving at as many nobles as he could. His dogs trotted by his side, noses high in the picture of pride. Both of them had been washed up, and they looked resplendent in their new golden collars. Melchior in particular seemed  _ very _ happy about this new arrangement: he was almost literally prancing as he walked next to his master. 

At last, Lucio reached the hastily made pedestal where the altar stood. He climbed up the rather rickety steps with all the air of a god ascending to his throne in the heavens. When he reached the top, he did a slow turn, showing off his ensemble. The dull, rather confused reaction of the crowd didn’t bother him. He didn’t even notice it. He was too busy reveling in his victory. 

It wasn’t long before the Queen made her appearance. Though Lucio noted the crowd had gotten quite restless by then. Those stupid tailors had certainly taken their time. But at least they were good at their job. Nadia looked resplendent. She was even wearing her most royal crown, the jewel-encrusted one that she only saved for incredibly special occasions. Lucio remembered how often she’d complained about it being gaudy. He also remembered every time he’d countered that thought with how the crown always made a great impression. It was completely unforgettable, after all. 

Nadia strode down the aisle with her head held high. She kept her gaze firmly forward. She didn’t so much as look at Lucio when she swept up the stairs and stood by his side. 

Lucio frowned for a split second, but his smile quickly returned when Vlastomil began the usual wedding speech... a speech that always went on far too long for Lucio’s tastes. He was so bored that he nearly missed when Vlastomil got to the important part.

“Do you, Count Lucio Morgasson, take this woman to be your bride?” 

Lucio scowled again at his last name-- he had never liked the name, nor had he ever liked the mother it was attached to-- but he quickly shifted back to a smile. He had to keep up appearances. For the moment. 

“Of course,” he said gallantly, making a mental note to keep Nadia’s surname after they were married. 

Vlastomil cleared his throat. Lucio sighed. 

“Yes, alright,  _ I do, _ ” Lucio huffed. 

Apparently satisfied, Vlastomil moved on. 

“And do you, Your Royal Majesty Queen Nadia Satrinava...” 

Lucio couldn’t resist a smirk. Royal Majesty would be his title deliciously soon. 

“...take this man to be your husband?” Vlastomil finished. 

Nadia’s solid stance wavered. She was silent for a long moment. Lucio tapped his foot impatiently. 

“Well, darling?” he said with as much delicacy as he could muster... which was about the delicacy of a stampeding hippo.

Nadia took a deep breath. Lucio could have sworn she shuddered, but, of course, that wasn’t possible. Nadia simply didn’t shudder. Ever. Still, even Lucio couldn’t deny that Nadia wasn’t meeting Vlastomil’s eye. Her gaze had wandered towards the ground. 

The crowd started muttering. Lucio scowled and crossed his arms. Vlastomil looked back and forth between the Queen and future King, jittery with nerves. 

Lucio was about to shove Nadia out of the way and say her vows for her when Nadia finally stirred. She straightened her shoulders. She grimaced, as though preparing for something terrible to occur. And she cleared her throat.

“I--”

“Wait!” 

“ _ Stop! _ ” 

The crowd let out a collective gasp. Two voices had just cut off the Queen, shouting out nearly in unison. The first was a girl’s, the second unmistakably a boy’s. 

And both voices were  _ very _ familiar. 

Lucio whirled around. His expression was absolutely murderous. 

“Who  _ dares--? _ ” 

“This wedding is over!” the boy shouted. “You  _ failed _ , Lucio!” 

Lucio spluttered for a moment, unable to form a clear sentence. Only one person had the sheer gall to interrupt him. A person who, by all accounts, should have been dead. 

Lucio noticed four figures in very rapid succession. Apparently, that little brat Meleia had gotten out of the dungeon. The useless Majestro stood by her side, glaring daggers at Lucio. But Lucio’s attention didn’t remain on them for long. Nor did it linger at the red-haired tutor who hovered near the palace gates. 

His attention was on one figure. 

Prince Damian stood defiantly at the end of the aisle. He was bedraggled and clearly exhausted. His once-fine clothing was torn and covered with dirt and mud and who-knew-what-else. His hair was even more of an utterly disheveled mess than usual. 

But it was unmistakably the prince. And he was unmistakably alive. 


	39. Crashing the Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the fights begin.

When Meleia, Asra, and Portia emerged from one of the hidden passageways, Meleia was afraid that they were too late. The crowd was restless. Both Lucio and Nadia were already at the altar, with a very unpleasant-looking man ready to officiate. And it looked like Nadia was about to say her vows. 

So Meleia did the only thing she could think to do. She screamed. 

Much to her surprise, another voice screamed with her. 

All eyes were instantly on that second voice. Meleia could hardly believe what she saw. 

“It’s Damian!” she breathed, ginning like an idiot. “He made it! He’s alive!” 

Portia gasped. She pointed at something far behind Damian. “Look!”

Meleia followed her gaze. Damian wasn’t alone. There, hovering awkwardly in the background surrounded by a plethora of animals, was Julian. Meleia was so happy to see him alive as well that she almost didn’t notice the very familiar snake on his shoulders, nor the twice as familiar fox resting by his heels. 

“Ilya!” Portia was nearly sobbing with relief. “I... I almost can’t believe he pulled it off!” Her expression immediately hardened. “Oh, I am going to _ throttle _ him for getting himself into trouble again!” 

Meleia giggled. It must have been wonderful to have a sister like Portia. 

Asra chuckled. “I think we can save the throttling for later. Though I am glad Faust and Forge managed to rally the troops after all. Or maybe the troops rallied _ them._” 

Meleia turned to Asra. “You sent Forge after Julian?” 

“Along with Faust,” Asra admitted. “And Inanna. I... only half expected them to actually find him.” 

Meleia burst out laughing. Her own situation was still rather dire. She had no idea how she was going to explain everything to Nadia. She had no clue what was going to happen with the whole Damian-marrying-the-Majestro thing. But at the moment, she hardly cared. 

Everyone was back. They were all safe. They were all alive. Right then, that was all that really mattered. 

\-----

Damian thought the timing couldn't have been more perfect if he had planned it. And he must have been quite a sight. He was an absolute mess, and his hands still wrapped in Julian’s makeshift bandages. About the only princely thing about him was the fact that Oswald still remained perched on his shoulder. All in all, he certainly made an impression. And Damian couldn’t deny he got a bit of a thrill out of the reaction from the crowd. He was starting to see why Julian liked theater so much. 

But all of that instantly left his mind when he saw the look on Nadia’s face. For a moment, she was frozen in utter shock. Then her expression melted into a warm, pure, unashamed joy. 

“Damian!” she sighed. 

Lucio, on the other hand, couldn’t possibly have looked more furious. 

“Impossible!” he snarled. “The prince is _ dead! _” 

“Not quite,” Damian shouted over the crowd. “And not for lack of trying!” 

He was about to tell everyone everything. About to expose Lucio and tell the world the horrible things the Count had done. 

But everything he might have said died in his throat when Nadia stepped slowly off the platform. She took two more nearly imperceptible steps forward. And then all decorum was thrown out the window. She raced back up the aisle and threw herself at Damian, wrapping her arms around him in a crushing hug. 

Damian must have been utterly disgusting. And he probably smelled absolutely horrendous. But Nadia didn’t care. She simply held him close, clinging onto him almost desperately. 

Damian hugged her back. And he sighed. It was like he was letting out a decade’s worth of held breaths. Like an enormous weight was instantly lifted off of his shoulders. 

It had been a long time since he had felt so completely and utterly _ safe. _

“Oh, my dear,” Nadia murmured. “I’m so glad you’re alright.” 

Damian buried his face in the Queen’s fancy gown. He barely even noticed that his eyes had gotten a little watery. Who could blame him, after all this? 

“I missed you, too,” he said, his tone caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob. 

Nadia sighed into the prince’s shoulder. She squeezed him tighter, letting the hug last just a moment longer. Then she pulled back, though she kept a firm grip on Damian’s shoulders. 

“What happened?” she demanded. “Lucio told me that you had...” 

“Died?” Damian glared over Nadia’s shoulder, throwing all of his fury at Lucio. “I’m sure he told you a _ lot _ of things. But I’m willing to bet he ‘forgot’ a few details.” 

Nadia’s eyes narrowed. She’d caught on to Damian’s accusations. 

“Such as?” she hissed. 

“Did he tell you that _ he _ was the one behind all of this?” Damian spat.

Slowly, every line in her body taught with fury, Nadia turned. She stared Lucio down. 

“No,” she snapped. “He neglected to mention that.” 

Lucio’s eyes were wide in sheer panic. He looked like he was about to run. Then, hastily, he straightened up. His sneer returned, though it wasn’t quite as nasty as before. 

“Now, now, that’s going a bit too far, isn’t it, Damian?” he said with a nervous laugh. 

“More like _ not far enough, _” Damian fired back. 

He was about to go on an absolute tirade, to let out everything he had ever wanted to say to Lucio in one fiery rant, but Lucio cut in before he could say another word. 

“Why don’t we worry about accusations later?” Lucio said quickly. “The prince is alive! It’s a miracle! I think that calls for a little celebration, right? After we finish up here, of course.” 

Damian stepped forward, putting himself between Lucio and Nadia. 

“Don’t even _ think _ about it,” Damian spat. “The game’s over, Lucio. You’ve _ lost. _” 

Lucio smirked at him. “A game? Have you been playing hide and seek this entire time? I never knew you were so good at it. None of us knew where you ran off to!” 

“I didn’t _ run off!"_ Damian snapped. “You had your goons kidnap me! And then you tried to have me _ killed!"_

He only realized how loudly he’d said that when the crowd around them gasped. They all instantly started murmuring frantically to one another. The words _ kidnapping _ and _ murder _ rustled through the courtyard like wind through leaves.

Lucio had the gall to laugh. Though the sound was clearly far more forced than before. 

“Damian, there must have been some misunderstanding...” 

“I highly doubt there’s anything to misunderstand,” said Nadia, glaring daggers at Lucio. 

Lucio raised his hands almost defensively. But his strained smile remained. 

“Now, Noddy,” he said as though he were trying to placate a small child, “you don’t _ honestly _ believe that I would do something like that, do you?” 

“_W__e _ do.” 

Damian grinned. He’d only spoken to Meleia once, but he would recognize her voice anywhere. 

Sure enough, she rushed forward until she was standing right by his side. Her elegant dress looked almost as dirty as Damian’s clothes. Her hair was falling out of its intricate, half-braided style, making errant strands fall over her face. And she was glaring at Lucio with more cold fury than Damian had ever seen. 

Damian still had very little idea on what was going on. But gods, was he happy to see her. 

“Meleia!” he cried in sheer relief. “You’re alright!” 

Meleia glanced at him, though she never took her full attention off of Lucio. She shot him a small smile. 

“Me?” she half-laughed. “I’m fine. I’m just glad you’re not dead.” 

“So am I,” Damian laughed. 

Lucio scowled. He met Meleia’s glare with a burning stare. 

“_You, _” he hissed. “I thought I had you tossed in the dungeon!” 

“You did,” said Meleia, her voice deadly calm. 

“Just another addition to the list of your crimes, Lucio,” said another voice. 

Only then did Damian notice the person standing by Meleia’s side. Even without his signature hat, Damian easily recognized the curly white hair and distinctive, colorful outfit of the Ambassador of Zadith. Damian stared at him, startled. He certainly hadn’t expected the Ambassador to so much as stick around, let alone stick up for him. 

He never imagined he would see the lighthearted Ambassador look so deadly furious, either. 

“The prince and his companion weren’t the only ones you tried to kill, were they?” the Ambassador hissed. “You were going to execute Meleia. Even though she didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Damian shot Meleia a glance. She only looked stunned for the span of a heartbeat. Then her own anger returned tenfold. 

“Oh, don’t play innocent with me!” Lucio snapped. “The girl’s a thief and a traitor!” 

“No,” said the Ambassador, his voice still deadly calm. “She’s not. All she did was get in _ your _ way. You probably would have found a way to have _ me _ executed, too, if I ever became a threat.” 

Damian automatically took a step forward. This time he wasn’t necessarily trying to protect anyone. He was just waiting for the opportune moment to deck Lucio across the face. 

He wanted to get to that sorry excuse for a count _ first. _

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the others fan out around him. Following his lead, they all formed a rough semicircle around Lucio. The animals rushed forward to fill in the gaps. Forge dashed to Meleia’s side and planted himself firmly in front of her legs, fur bristling. Meleia spared a relieved smile and patted his head before going right back to glaring at Lucio. The silvery snake zipped up to the Ambassador, who automatically bent down and allowed it to curl around his arm. The snake flicked its tongue at Lucio like a child blowing a raspberry. Then the wolf padded forward, standing guard next to the Ambassador.

The only one missing was Julian. Damian automatically glanced back, concerned... and saw Julian was lingering behind him, his stance tense. He was ready for a fight, just in case things should go wrong. 

Julian caught Damian’s eye. And they exchanged a nod. 

When Damian returned his attention back to Lucio, the count was eyeing all of the animals. He stared at them for a moment, looking wary. Then he took a single, nearly imperceptible step back.

Damian couldn’t hold back a wicked sort of grin. 

“What’s the matter, Lucio?” Damian jeered. “All out of excuses?” 

Lucio glowered at them. His teeth were clenched, almost as though he were baring fangs. But he remained pointedly silent. 

“Well?” said Nadia testily. “What do you have to say for yourself, Lucio?” 

Lucio let out a sound that was almost like a growl. Then he leapt off of the dias and plowed right towards them. Damian instantly went into a fighting stance. But Lucio wasn’t headed for him. He slammed into Meleia, shoving her aside. Meleia toppled. The Ambassador lurched forward and managed to catch her before she hit the ground. Forge barely managed to avoid getting trampled by the whole thing.

“Vlastomil! Vulgora!” Lucio bellowed. “Take care of them!” 

Damian watched Lucio run for a split second. The Count was barreling straight towards Julian. Putting his trust in Julian, Damian instead rushed over to Meleia. 

“You alright?” he asked. 

“Fine,” she mumbled. She let the Ambassador help her up. 

“Good.” Damian glared at the Count’s retreating form. 

Meleia stepped forward, her gaze following Damian’s. “We can’t let Lucio get away!” 

“We won’t,” said the Ambassador firmly.

He stole another glance at Meleia... a kind of glance Damian found very familiar. Damian and Julian had often exchanged looks like that. 

Then the Ambassador straightened up, squaring his shoulders. Meleia nodded in return. The Ambassador smirked. 

“It sounded like he was calling for some of his cohorts,” said the Ambassador. “Do you two think you could handle them?” 

Both Damian and Meleia looked right at Vlastomil... who was, Damian realized belatedly, hiding behind the pulpit where he had just been officiating the wedding. And just like that, Vlastomil shot to the top of Damian’s _ people to punch _ list. 

“Gladly,” Damian said firmly. 

“On it,” Meleia said at almost the same instant. 

The Ambassador rushed off, chasing after Lucio. Damian and Meleia didn’t even need to exchange a word. They just stood firm, shoulder to shoulder. Damian raised his fists. Meleia stood as ready as she could. 

“Have you ever punched anyone before?” Damian asked. 

“Nope.” Meleia shot him a glance. “You?” 

“Not yet,” said Damian. 

With that, he lunged forward, rushing at Vlastomil. Meleia followed right behind him. 

“_STOP RIGHT THERE! _” 

Damian instantly stopped short. Meleia skidded to a halt next to him. Damian took a half step back, sliding into a more defensive stance. 

He’d know that obnoxious yell anywhere. 

A figure all in red sauntered in front of him. They planted themselves directly before the staircase that led to the pulpit... and Vlastomil. 

“Vulgora,” Damian hissed. “Can’t say it’s nice to see you again. But I admit I’ve been looking forward to a chance to get back at you.” 

Vulgora chuckled. “Oh? Because _ I’ve _ been looking forward to _ pummeling _ you!” 

Vulgora lunged, stabbing at Damian with razor-sharp gauntlets. Meleia gasped and lurched back. But Damian was ready. He stepped aside, grabbed Vulgora’s arm, and slammed them into the floor in a single smooth motion. 

“I’m much better with a sword,” Damian quipped, “but if you want to go hand-to-hand...” 

Vulgora didn’t seem hurt in the least. They were actually laughing. 

“Oh, this is going to be _ fun!_” they sneered. 

Damian glanced up. Meleia was staring at him, frozen in shock. 

“I’ll be fine!” he called. “Stop Vlastomil!” 

Meleia pulled herself together. And she raced up the steps to the dias. 

Damian was tempted to watch, to make sure she would be alright. But the instant he took his attention off of Vulgora, they went right back on the attack. Damian was forced backwards as Vulgora surged to their feet. They flexed their shoulders and cracked their neck, grinning wickedly. 

“Alright, prince,” they snarled. “Let’s _ play!"_

\-----

Meleia wasn’t a fighter by any sense. But she thought she could take on one skinny guy. Particularly one who looked like a limp noodle in fancy clothing. 

She skirted around the dias and put herself right in front of the wormy guy, Vlastomil. Even though he technically had the higher ground, it was easy to glare down at him when he was flat on his belly, squirming like a bug. Meleia glared at him and crossed her arms. 

“Going somewhere?” she snapped. 

Vlastomil let out a pathetic yelp. He tried to scramble backwards, only to freeze again when he spotted Damian and Vulgora still locked in combat. Meleia spared a glance as well, and was relieved to find that Damian was holding his own. Though he was distinctly on the defence. She had to find a way to help him... 

But first things first. Make sure Vlastomil didn’t get involved. 

She surged forward and grabbed his coat. She tried to yank him off the pedestal. 

“Get your grubby little hands off of me!” Vlastomil shrieked. He wiggled and writhed, trying to break free. But that only made him get tangled up in his own oversized regalia. Which, of course, made it all too easy for Meleia to drag him into the dirt. He tumbled to the ground with a little squeak. 

“_That’s _ for kidnapping my friend!” Meleia shouted. 

Vlastomil tried in vain to untangle himself. “It wasn’t _ my _ fault! It was Lucio’s idea!” 

“But you and Vulgora did it,” Meleia snapped. “You could have refused.” 

“He... he promised us riches!” Vlastomil protested. “And a private manor for me and my little wormies!” 

Meleia pulled a face. She had _ no _ idea what the whole “wormies” thing was about, and she did _ not _ want to know. She was really getting sick of this guy. There had to be a way to make sure he didn’t run back to Lucio without keeping a constant eye on him. 

Ignoring the rest of Vlastomil’s whining, Meleia scanned the courtyard. The decorations were as horribly gaudy as she had come to expect from Lucio. And, for some reason that Meleia couldn’t begin to fathom, that included an enormous banner strung between a few sets of armor that Meleia vaguely recognized from the palace halls. 

Then Meleia grinned. There were swords on those sets of armor. 

Vlastomil was still complaining. “And it wasn’t even me who decided to take the bat! That was all Vulgora’s-- _ hey! _” 

Meleia tugged his robes over his head, both to shut him up and to buy herself a bit of time. Then she dashed right for the suits of armor. She tugged two swords free, accidentally sending pieces of armor clattering to the ground. Meleia dodged out of the way and ran back over to Vlastomil. He’d managed to get himself mostly back in order. 

“Hold it right there!” Meleia shouted. 

Vlastomil let out another yelp. He tried to scurry out of the way, but he didn’t even manage to stand up. Meleia plunged one of the swords down, spearing the end of his cloak. The sword buried deep into the ground. Vlastomil was pinned. 

“Don’t even _ think _ about going anywhere,” she hissed. Then she left Vlastomil wriggling in the dirt and ran back towards Damian. He was still unharmed. But Vulgora was clearly gaining the advantage. 

She didn’t want to distract him. But she didn’t have much of a choice. 

She waited for a few seconds. Damian managed to get a bit of distance away from his opponent. Meleia took the chance. She shouted Damian’s name. 

\-----

Damian doubted his ability to take on the likes of Vulgora on a good day. Which meant that today, his main goal was staying alive as long as possible. 

It was starting to look like he wasn’t going to manage that much longer. 

Vulgora’s warmongering nature wasn’t just talk. And their gauntlets were wickedly sharp. It was all Damian could do to avoid getting skewered. He was extremely grateful for every chance Julian had taken to train him in fisticuffs. Though Julian’s rather brawl-like moves weren’t nearly as elegant as the fencing training Nadia had given him, it was enough to keep Vulgora on their toes. For the moment. 

Damian was all too aware that Vulgora was just playing with him. They were drawing out the fight as long as possible. And they were thoroughly enjoying it. 

Damian blocked and evaded as best as he could. He even tried to get a few punches in, but he couldn’t do much when Vulgora was in full armor. At last, Vulgora managed a solid hit. The back of their gauntlet slammed into Damian’s jaw. Damian staggered back, cupping his bruised cheek. He was breathing heavily. His legs threatened to buckle under him. 

Vulgora wasn’t even winded. They let out a cruel chuckle. And they started to circle Damian like a vulture. 

“Aw, worn out already?” Vulgora sneered. “You can’t trick your way out of _ this _ fight!” 

All Damian could do was take another step back. 

“_Damian! _” 

Damian automatically looked up. There was Meleia, looking utterly frantic. She held onto a large sword, which was clearly too much for her to handle: she was letting the tip trail towards the dirt. She quickly caught his eye. And she hurled the sword in his general direction. 

Automatically, Damian tried to catch it. He quickly figured out that this was a _ very _ bad idea. Instead he skidded around it, letting the blade clatter to the ground. He hastily snatched it up and whirled around, just in time to block a swipe from Vulgora’s claws. Sparks flew as the gauntlet's polished metal screeched against the rusted blade. 

The sword was old, heavy, and hardly made for someone Damian’s size. He wasn’t even sure if it was made for combat. But it was enough.

Vulgora’s sneer only widened. “Oh, that’s _ cute! _ The widdle pwince got a tiny sword!” 

Damian didn’t waste his breath. He didn’t give Vulgora the satisfaction. He simply swung, knocking Vulgora’s gauntlet aside. Vulgora was pushed off-balance. They caught themselves quickly, but not before staggering back a bit, putting some distance between themselves and Damian. 

Vulgora scowled. Damian shot them a cheeky grin. Then Vulgora went in for another attack. 

It didn’t take Damian long to gain the upper hand. Vulgora clearly hadn’t expected the prince to be that skilled with a blade. Their surprise didn’t last long. They countered each attack and tried to find an opening. But Damian wouldn’t let them. He blocked and swung and slammed the sword against their armor with almost wild abandon.

His exhaustion was getting the better of him. But Damian didn’t back down. Still, as Damian grew more tired, Vulgora just seemed to get stronger and stronger. Despite his new weapon, Damian thought he was done for.

Then Nadia joined him. 

Where she had gotten her own blade, Damian would never know. But she was there, by his side, shooting him a confident smile. 

“Well done, Damian,” she said, sounding genuinely proud. “You don’t mind if I join you, do you?” 

Damian let out a tired laugh. “Not at all.” 

“_Finally!_” Vulgora shouted. “I’ve been _dying_ for a chance to take down the Queen!” 

Nadia met their cruel smirk with an even smile. “Oh? In that case, I’m afraid you’ll be _ quite _ disappointed.” 

Vulgora lunged. Nadia easily countered. Damian swept in with another swing of his blade. And the battle started anew. 

It didn’t last long. Nadia and Damian were a flawless team. They moved in perfect unison. Vulgora couldn't stand against their intense sequence of attacks. Finally, with one last heavy swing, Damian managed to send Vulgora crashing to the ground. Vulgora glared at him and tried to push themselves up... only to find the tip of Damian’s blade pointed right at their throat. 

“Just try it,” Damian hissed. 

“_You cheated!_” Vulgora barked. 

“You kidnapped me, you hurt both Oswald _ and _ Julian, and you tried to _ kill _ me,” Damian snapped. “Do you _ really _ think I care if you call me a cheater?” 

Vulgora let out a litany of curses. But he was quickly shut up when Meleia came behind him with, of all things, one of the tablecloths set up for the wedding. Apparently, her clothing shop experience included very good knots. In moments, Vulgora had been completely snared. Damian let out a long sigh of relief. He let the tip of his sword trail to the ground. 

Now all he had to do was trust that Julian was doing alright. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It. Is. So. Hard. To turn these last TEN MINUTES OF MOVIE into something coherent in written form. So this is definitely going to be broken up into several chapters. Oh, well.


	40. Teamwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which teamwork makes the half-formed, spur-of-the-moment plans work. 
> 
> Also there are animal shenanigans.

Just as Julian had expected, Lucio’s first instinct had been to escape. But Julian was right there to cut him off. Lucio stopped short the instant he spotted Julian. And he fixed Julian with the most lethal glare yet. 

“Hey there,” said Julian with a smirk. “Surprised to see me?” 

“More like _ disappointed_,” Lucio spat back. “You always had a knack for sticking your long nose where it doesn’t belong.” 

“Hey, my nose is amazing,” Julian said easily. He was thoroughly enjoying making Lucio mad. “Your hair, on the other hand...” 

“That is _ it!_” Lucio screeched. “You’re _ dead!_” 

Julian flashed another grin. “Oh, really? I must be a ghost, then. Since you’re not getting rid of me any time soon!”

Lucio’s only reply was a feral roar as he charged. Julian fell back on all of the combat training he’d gotten both from his pirate years and from a few Salty-Bitter-related incidents. He stood his ground, waited for Lucio to come in close, and socked him in the face. 

Julian’s fist hurt afterwards. But it was _ incredibly _ satisfying. And definitely worth it. 

Lucio staggered back, but he was right back in the frey in less than a second. The hit hardly seemed to have fazed him. Lucio went right for Julian’s throat. Julian tried to jab him in the eye. Lucio ducked out of the way and tried to punch Julian in the gut. Julian knocked Lucio’s hand aside and went in for a punch of his own. 

They traded blows, neither gaining the other hand. Julian was so focused on making sure he both managed to stall Lucio and keep himself alive that he didn’t notice Lucio was steering him off of the main path... and right towards where the horses were tethered. Not until Lucio shoved Julian over and made a mad dash for the steeds, frightening many of the horses. And frightening a few young stablehands. The only horse who didn’t seem too bothered was Appleberry. Of course, that was the one Lucio chose to leap onto. 

“Go!” Lucio snarled. “Move, you stupid beast!” 

Appleberry seemed completely disinterested. Until Lucio kicked him. Then, with a long-suffering sort of snort, Appleberry started to trot. 

Julian couldn’t help but grin. Appleberry was rather infamous for being lazy. Lucio had just made the wrong move. 

But, of course, Lucio’s impatience was equally infamous. 

“I said _ move!_” 

He gave Appleberry another kick, far harder this time. Appleberry reared, startled. And the horse ran, fleeing towards the wide-open gates. 

Julian bit back a curse. He barely managed to throw himself out of the way. The horse’s hooves landed right where he had just been standing. Julian picked himself back up as quickly as he could and tried to give chase. He wasn’t much of a rider. He just had to hope he was enough of a runner. 

“Wait!” 

Asra’s voice made Julian stop short. He whirled around. Asra sat proudly atop one of Lucio’s white mares. Where or how Asra had managed to find the steed, Julian would never know. But the way Asra was smiling made it clear he knew _ exactly _ whose horse he had just stolen. And he loved it. 

“Need a ride?” Asra called. 

Julian grinned. “Don’t mind if I do.” 

Asra helped Julian haul himself onto the steed. There was plenty of room for both of them. Almost before Julian was situated, Asra urged the horse forward. The horse took off like a shot from a cannon. But Lucio had a rather significant lead. And being chased, particularly by one of Lucio’s horses, just made Appleberry run faster. 

“We have to cut him off!” Julian shouted. It was all he could do to cling onto his erstwhile steed. “Try to get to the gate!” 

Asra altered his course. And he urged Lucio’s horse to run faster. But it didn’t look like they had much chance of catching up. 

That wasn’t going to stop either of them from trying. 

\-----

The humans were so caught up in their own battles that none of them noticed the animals had struggles of their own. 

For one thing, Forge nearly got trampled multiple times. As did Faust. Asra’s tall friend and a few of the people working at the palace were making sure the crowd got away safely, which meant that there were plenty of opportunities for small animals to get squished. But Faust and Forge managed to weave between feet for long enough to reunite with Oswald, who had been dislodged from his perch on Damian’s shoulder the instant Lucio started running. 

Forge was _ not _ going to let that nasty Count get away. 

_ Chase! _ he urged, almost literally barking at the others before trying to catch up to Lucio himself. 

Inanna stepped in front of him before he could get very far. 

_ It’s too dangerous, _ she said firmly. _ You’re too small. _

Forge wanted desperately to argue. But since he was just about the size of Lucio’s boot, he really couldn’t. 

That was when Faust wiggled forward. _ Not me! _

She was eager to help... and, judging by the very determined way she was wiggling, she was just as eager to get to Lucio as Forge was. 

Inanna huffed. _ Yes, you too. Besides, we have other things to deal with. _

Faust, Forge, and Oswald all looked at one another, equally confused. It was Oswald who figured out what Inanna meant first. The very familiar angry snarl that ripped through the air was a dead giveaway. 

_ Melchior! Mercedes! _ Oswald screeched.

Lucio’s hunting hounds were making their way through the crowd of spectators. They were adding to the mess of terror and general confusion by snarling at people and nipping at the heels of anyone who dared to come too close. 

_ They’re trying to reach Lucio! _ Oswald cried. 

Forge’s ears flattened. He started to snarl. _ Won’t let them! _

_ No way! _ Faust agreed. _ Catch bad man! _

_ I’ll fly ahead and try to slow Lucio down! _Oswald declared. And despite his exhaustion, he took to the air. 

Faust flicked the end of her long tail in his general direction. _ Luck! _

Inanna’s tail twitched nervously. _ I must go to my human. He will need my help. _ Her eyes flicked toward Faust and Forge. _ Don’t do anything stupid. _

She dashed off, heading towards Asra’s tall friend. 

Faust looked at Forge. _ Time for stupid? _

Forge didn’t even have time to reply. The hounds were almost on top of them. Forge stood his ground. Faust hissed at them, tail twitching as though she were a rattlesnake. But the hounds weren’t remotely intimidated by the small fox and wiggly snake. Not even when Forge was as dangerously fluffed up as possible. Melchior even had the nerve to snort at him. 

_ What do you want, fuzzball? _ he huffed. 

Forge bristled even more, if that was possible. _ Stay away! Leave human friends alone! _

Mercedes growled, the sound low and dangerous. Even a human would get the obvious message: _ Out of our way. _

_ Not worth our time, _Melchior growled. Then he stopped short. _ Wait. You smell familiar. _

Melchior leaned in closer and snuffled at Forge. Forge swiped at Melchior’s nose. Melchior pulled back, growling. 

_ I know you, _ Melchior snarled. _ You saved that little flying rat. _

Forge flicked his tail. _ Won last time. Beat you again! _

Melchior just growled louder. _ Not this time! I’ll snap you in half! _

_ Run! _ Forge urged Faust. 

_ Away! _ Faust agreed. 

Melchior lunged. His jaws snapped closed on open air. Forge and Faust were already scurrying away. Melchior and Mercedes bolted right after them. 

Weaving through the crowd, around decorations, and between table legs was just as simple for Forge as dashing through the worst of the crowds at the market back home. And Faust was living up to her slippery, wiggly nature. She wasn’t fazed by a single movement, following Forge with ease. 

The hounds, on the other hand, weren’t nearly so slippery. And they weren’t remotely graceful. Tables tipped. Onlookers were knocked over. A hastily carved ice sculpture of Lucio fell off of its display table and shattered on the ground. 

But the hounds didn’t slow down. 

Through all his mad dodging, Forge’s mind whirled. There had to be some way to get the dogs to falter. He was rather amazed that they were still chasing him and Faust. The last time that Forge had faced off against Melchior, the dog had turned tail the instant he realized he’d gotten a little dirty. 

Forge barely managed to keep himself from stopping short. He risked a glance back. Somehow, the hounds were still spotless. 

_ Faust! _ He barked. _ Play chase! Idea! _

_ Slippery chase! _ Faust agreed. 

At least Forge had to assume she was agreeing, because she trilled her tongue tauntingly at the hounds before speeding off. It was like she’d been waiting for Forge’s cue. Forge took the opportunity. He ducked behind the closest toppled chair and let Faust and the dogs speed past him. Then he dashed off again, trying to find the nearest table that still had food. At last, he managed to find the perfect spot. And just in time. Mercedes and Melchior nearly had Faust cornered. 

Forge waited for just the right moment. Finally, when the dogs were right next to the table, he pounced. Almost literally. He rammed himself into a tiered display packed to the brim with decadent desserts. Every single cake, cookie, truffle, and pastry landed on the dogs. Their white fur was instantly splattered with a goopy, sugary mess. 

Both hounds stopped short mid-growl. Faust wiggled in a way that was unmistakably a laugh. 

_ Messy! _ she declared. 

Forge jumped off the table, landing lightly in front of the dogs. 

_ Bad man disappointed, _ he said, shaking his head. 

Melchior growled again. But the sound was halfhearted. And the way both he and Mercedes tucked their tails between their legs completely gave away their shame. 

_ You’re REALLY dead now! _ Melchior grumbled. 

Forge replied by kicking some dirt into his face. 

Melchior lurched aside, momentarily blinded. He crashed right into Mercedes. Mercedes, utterly offended, tried to snap at him. Melchior yelped and swiped at her. After that, it wasn’t long before the pair were little more than a snarling blur of teeth and claws. They chased one another across the grounds, completely ignoring both their master’s ongoing escape attempt and the very smug-looking fox and snake that they left behind. 

_ Goodbye! _ Faust called. 

If foxes could actually laugh, Forge would have done so right then. Satisfied that the hounds were no longer remotely a threat, he tried to rush back to Meleia. Faust was quick to follow him, hoping to reunite with her own human. 

\-----

By the time Forge and Faust had figured out what to do with Lucio’s dogs, Oswald was just barely catching up to Lucio himself. Oswald had never seen Appleberry move so fast, not even when the horse had helped Damian escape. And Oswald was still nearly running on empty. But he was rested enough to fly, thanks to the ride on Damian’s shoulder. And he was _ not _ about to let Lucio do anything to his friends ever again.

So he caught up with Appleberry. He landed right on the horse’s head, nestling between his ears. 

Lucio instantly scowled at him. “You! Get _ off!_” 

He swiped at Oswald, but the blow was badly aimed. Oswald simply ducked down, nearly burying himself in Appleberry’s name. 

_ Appleberry! _ Oswald chirped desperately. _ You need to stop! _

Appleberry whinnied in panic. _ But the Human Boss is scared! Must be something bigger and meaner! We need to run! _

_ The human boss IS the big and mean one! _ Oswald insisted. _ Damian’s friends are trying to catch him! Help them! Slow down! _

Appleberry kept running. 

Oswald tried again. _ The Queen needs your help! She needs to stop the Boss! _

Appleberry galloped on. 

Oswald made a sound that was distinctly like a sigh. _ The queen will give you apples AND extra oats if you help catch the Boss. _

Appleberry instantly screeched to a halt. 

Lucio barely managed to cling to Appleberry’s neck. He started spluttering, spitting out words that Oswald had never heard before but obviously weren’t meant for polite company. This time Appleberry didn’t stop. Even Oswald was forced to cling to his mane as the horse sped straight back down the path, rushing back towards the main courtyard... and right to the white horse that Asra and Julian were riding. 

\-----

The last thing Asra and Julian expected to see was Lucio’s stolen horse turn around and rush at them. Asra instantly yanked on the reins. Their own steed whinnied in protest, but swerved nonetheless. They barely managed to avoid a collision. Julian couldn’t hang on. He would have tumbled right off the horse if Asra hadn’t grabbed him just in time. 

“Thanks,” Julian breathed. “That was a close one, wasn’t it?” 

“Thank me later,” said Asra. His eyes narrowed as he watched Lucio charge back into the crowd. 

Julian followed his gaze. “Either he has a new plan, or he’s dumber than I thought.” 

“Probably the first one,” said Asra. “I doubt he can get any dumber than you imagined.” 

Julian laughed. “Fair point. So. What do we do now?” 

Asra hesitated for a moment, surveying the scene. Lucio’s horses were particularly tall, so he had a fairly good vantage point. At first he thought that one of Lucio’s cohorts was conspicuously missing before he caught sight of someone trying to wriggle himself out of a cloak that was pinned to the ground with a sword. For a split second he was utterly bemused. Then he saw Meleia rushing in to help tie up Lucio’s other cohort... with a tablecloth. 

His eyes flicked to a banner that trailed towards the ground. A plan was starting to form, but he would need help. 

“Ilya! Majestro!” 

Both of them looked up, startled. Portia rushed towards them, her curls flying wildly behind her. 

“Pasha...” Julian tried to placate her, but he was instantly cut off by Portia’s tirade. 

“What’s going on? What happened? Ilya, I am going to _ kill _ you for getting yourself all caught up in this mess!” 

“I’m sorry, Pasha,” said Julian, sounding heartfelt. “I promise, you can punch me all you want later. But right now...” 

“I know, I know,” Portia huffed. “We’ve gotta save Milady! And Damian and Meleia and... everybody!” Before anyone else could get another word in edgewise, she turned to Asra. “Majestro, your guard’s helping everyone evacuate. We’ve been taking them through the passage back into the palace, since all the craziness seems to be out here.” 

Asra breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good. I’ll have to thank him later. In the meantime...” 

Portia smiled. “What do you need us to do?” 

Asra’s face fell. “I have an idea. I think I can take Lucio down. I’ll need everyone’s help, and I’m not sure how long he’ll _ stay _ down, but...” 

“Let’s try it,” Portia said at once. “At this point, I’ll even take one of Ilya’s harebrained schemes.” 

“Hey!” Julian cried indignantly. 

Asra flashed a small smile before speaking again. “We need a distraction. You two have to keep Lucio occupied while I set everything up.” 

“Uh, keep him distracted from what, exactly?” Julian asked. 

“I just need a few minutes,” said Asra, which didn’t answer anyone’s questions. “Do whatever you can to keep his attention away from me and Meleia. You don’t even have to fight him, just... be a pain in his ass!” 

Julian laughed. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place? _ That _I can do!” 

“All too well,” Portia sighed. 

Asra didn’t waste time on a reply. He leaped off Lucio’s horse and dashed off. Julian saw him take a distinct turn away from the main thoroughfare-- and away from where Lucio had finally managed to get himself off of Appleberry-- before he turned to his sister. 

“You happen to know how to ride a horse?” he asked. 

Portia flushed. “Nope. You?” 

“Not really,” said Julian. 

With that, he grabbed Portia’s arm, hauled her up onto Lucio’s steed as well, and gave the horse a stern kick. The horse snorted indignantly. And it trotted as slowly as possible. But at least they were gaining on Lucio. And they were certainly going to be distracting. 


	41. Tying Up Loose Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the gang's all here.

Damian, Nadia, and Meleia had just finished making sure that Vulgora and Vlastomil were properly tangled up when Appleberry nearly trampled them. They all stumbled back as Appleberry reared. The horse tossed his rider off of his back... and Lucio landed in the grass with an unceremonious thud. He instantly picked himself up, swearing at the horse. 

Damian just stared at the scene, completely confused. Nadia heaved a sigh. 

“It seems our fight isn’t over yet.” She raised her blade. 

Damian followed suit. He was breathing heavily. He was trembling with exhaustion and hunger. He knew he didn’t have much fight left in him. But he was going to do whatever it took to make sure that Lucio never had a chance to mess with his family and friends again. 

Appleberry trotted off and started nosing the grass for food. Lucio shouted a few more swears at the horse for good measure. Then he turned and saw Damian, Nadia, and Meleia practically surrounding him. A sickening smirk stretched across Lucio’s face. He clasped his hands behind his back, making him look like a general surveying his troops. 

“Well, well,” he sneered. “What a happy little family reunion this is. Shame you made a mess of my party.” 

“You’re the only one making a mess around here,” Damian snapped. 

It wasn’t his best line. But he was tired, and he just wanted to get this all over with. 

Lucio scoffed. “Oh, sure. Blame _ me. _ This would have been a _ perfectly _ good wedding, _ and _ I would have saved your sorry excuse for a kingdom. But you just _ had _ to get in my way!” 

“I shudder to think what Vesuvia would have come to if I had actually let you get away with your plan,” said Nadia coldly. 

“We’ll save the kingdom ourselves,” Damian all but growled. “We don’t need you. We never have.” 

“_Everyone _ needs me!” Lucio yelled. “_You’re _ the one ruining Vesuvia! And I will _ not _ let you stand in the way of my crown any longer!” 

“The crown will _ never _ be yours,” Nadia hissed. 

“It’s _ already mine!_” Lucio roared. 

He lunged at Damian, his golden arm flashing in the sunlight. Damian instinctively raised his sword. He just barely managed to block in time. There was a horrible screech as golden claws scraped against the rusted metal. Lucio had used his moment of bragging to get ready for a real battle. And Damian was at a huge disadvantage. The blade was knocked clean out of Damian’s hands. He was knocked off-balance, staggering to the floor. Lucio swiped at his face. 

Nadia’s sword caught Lucio’s claws. Lucio just closed his fist, grabbing the blade itself, and ripped the sword out of her grip. Nadia took a hasty step back. Lucio picked up the sword with his real hand and aimed the tip at Nadia. He shot her an evil grin. 

“I always admired how strong you are, Noddy,” he sneered. “But you should know better by now. You’re helpless without me, aren’t you?” 

Nadia didn’t reply. She simply stepped protectively in front of Damian. 

“What, no backup plan?” Lucio jeered. “No guards to come to your rescue?” 

“They are doing their duty,” Nadia snarled. “My people are always my first priority.” 

“_Royalty _ is the first priority!” Lucio raved. “And if you won’t hand me my crown... I guess I’ll just have to take it from you!” 

“So you’ll kill us?” said Damian, his voice far weaker than he wanted it to be. “Then what? You’ll be arrested for murder and treason, and someone else will step in to take the crown.” 

“Not if I was only defending the queen from an attack by a crazed, possibly brainwashed prince,” Lucio sneered. 

Damian’s eyes widened. 

“Oh, I tried to save the Queen, of course,” Lucio went on, narrating his tale. “But I was too late! It was all I could do to slay the mad prince before he hurt anyone else!” 

“They’ll never believe you,” Damian growled.

“They won’t have much choice, will they?” said Lucio. “No one disobeys royalty.” He raised his blade. “Noddy, I hope you won’t take this personally. And to our little prince...” he chuckled. “Well, there’s only one thing left to say, right? _ Goodbye_, Damian.” 

“_Hello,_ Lucio!”

No one even had the chance to react. One of Lucio’s steeds came barreling into the courtyard. A blur of red and black leapt off of the horse and rammed into Lucio, tackling him to the ground. 

Damian grinned like an idiot. “Julian!” 

Julian flashed him a quick smile. He stood up and offered Damian a hand. “Hope I didn’t miss the party.” 

“You’re right on time,” Damian laughed. He let Julian haul him back up. 

Lucio roared in fury. He leaped to his feet. His clawed gauntlet flashed again, fingers curling as though he longed to wrap them around Julian’s throat. 

“Get out of my way!” he snarled. 

Julian met his glare with an even smile. “Not going to happen. En garde!” 

He put up his fists and started jabbing at the air. Lucio just shook his head. 

“You should leave the fighting to the _ real _ warriors, Jules,” Lucio tisked. 

“I’ll have you know I’m a _ master _ in the ancient art of bar brawling,” Julian taunted. 

Lucio laughed. “You can’t hope to take me down alone.” 

“I don’t,” said Julian simply. 

Right on cue, Portia flew in. She rammed her shoulder into Lucio’s gut. Lucio tumbled to the ground a good ten feet away. 

“_That _ was for my brother!” she shouted. Her hair billowed around her like furious flames. 

Nadia smiled. “Well done, Portia.”

Portia instantly whirled around, eyes wide as she looked at Nadia. “Milady, are you alright?” 

“Perfectly fine,” Nadia assured her. “Your concern is touching.” 

Nadia smiled. Damian could have sworn he caught Portia blushing. 

Any other reunions would have to wait. Lucio didn’t stay down for long. He pushed himself back to his feet. His teeth were bared like a savage beast. Nadia stepped in front of him. 

“Your treachery ends here, Lucio,” she snapped. “Portia. Julian. Care to help me apprehend him?” 

Portia nodded. “I’ve got your back, Milady.” 

Julian cracked his knuckles. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

In one fluid movement, Nadia snatched Damian’s borrowed sword off of the ground and closed the distance between herself and Lucio. Portia was right by her side. She snatched up the nearest thing she could find to a weapon: a food platter that had ended up on the ground. 

Damian lurched forward to join the fray. But Julian held him back. 

“Go find Asra and Meleia,” he whispered quickly. “They’re cooking something up. We’re just here to buy time.” 

Damian blinked at the name _ Asra._ The Majestro was here? He didn’t remotely know what the Majestro looked like, but he thought he could find Meleia easily enough. So he pressed a quick kiss to Julian’s cheek. 

“Good luck,” he said. 

Julian blushed all the way to his ears. But he grinned. “No need to worry about me. Now get out of here and let us get to work!” 

Damian shot Julian one last smile. Then he raced off to find Meleia.

\-----

Meleia had once again found herself grateful that Asra was there. She’d had no idea what to do when Damian and Lucio started truly fighting. There wasn’t much she _ could _ do. 

Then Asra shouted her name. She whirled around. And she spotted him waving frantically for her. He was standing right by the suits of armor that she’d stolen swords from... and he was lifting up one end of the half-fallen banner. 

Meleia caught onto his plan in an instant. It was risky. And the claws on Lucio’s gauntlet were razor sharp. They had to do this right if they were going to make sure Lucio _ stayed _ trapped. 

But if she was good at one thing, it was making sure fabric went exactly where she wanted it to go. 

She was quick to dash over to Asra’s side. They didn’t even waste time on greetings. 

“Help me take this down,” Asra said instantly. 

Meleia quickly complied. She had to awkwardly clambour up the armor and dislodge the other end of the banner. It fluttered rather sadly to the ground. Meleia jumped down after it. 

“Good work,” said Asra. “I’ll take this end.” 

“Got it,” Meleia agreed immediately, picking up the other end. 

“Julian and Portia are buying us some time,” said Asra. “We have to take Lucio by surprise, or this will never--”

“Meleia!” 

Both Meleia and Asra looked up. Damian rushed towards them. He looked frantic. Then he registered that she was standing next to Asra, and he looked utterly confused instead. He stumbled to a stop, nearly falling on his face. 

“Meleia, what...?” He shook his head and tried again. “Julian said you were over here with the Majestro. So why...?” 

Meleia almost laughed. Asra managed to turn his own chuckle into a somewhat-convincing cough. 

“Damian,” said Meleia, unable to hide her smile, “allow me to formally introduce Majestro Asra of Zadith.” 

Asra tilted his head in a sort of bow. Damian gamed at him.

“But... you...” Damian spluttered. “You said... I thought you...” 

“I thought it would be better to get to know all of you _ without _ the pressure of being royalty,” said Asra. “I’m only sorry I didn’t get to tell you myself.” 

Words seemed to fail Damian. He stared wide-eyed at Asra for a full three seconds. Three seconds where they heard the scuffle between Lucio and the others rage on. Then Damian shook his head. 

“We can talk about this later,” Damian declared. “What’s the plan?” 

Asra silently held up the banner. Damian grinned. 

“Perfect,” said Damian. “All we have to do is make sure he doesn’t claw his way back out.” 

“I think we can handle that,” said Meleia. 

“Absolutely,” Damian agreed. “Mind if I lend a hand?” 

“By all means,” said Asra. 

Meleia laughed in earnest this time. 

They skirted around the battle that raged on. Meleia couldn’t help but watch, even as they crept towards the frey like thieves. Nadia wielded the rusted sword flawlessly. And Meleia distinctly heard her shouting commands, both corralling the makeshift troops and forcing Lucio’s attention to waver as he tried to fend off all the attacks. Portia took every opportunity to wail on Lucio with a serving tray whenever he turned his back on her. And Julian wove in and out of the battle, feinting and jabbing whenever he could. 

It was all incredible. Nadia and Portia made a perfect team. And Julian was surprisingly good at fighting. But Lucio was a monster. They were hardly even slowing him down. And he was getting angrier by the minute.

They couldn’t stall for much longer. 

“Lucio’s right in the middle,” Damian whispered. 

Asra nodded. “We’ll have to wait until he’s pulled back.” 

“I don’t think he’s going to pull back any time soon...” Meleia murmured. 

Asra grimaced. Damian winced. But neither of them argued. 

“Let’s get closer,” Meleia suggested. “Maybe we can signal the others.” 

“Worth a try,” Damian agreed. 

They crept forward, still holding the banner between them. Meleia instinctively held her breath. She didn’t dare make a sound, didn’t dare give away their position. 

Then Lucio lashed out with his gauntlet again. The attack caught Julian by surprise. He lurched back... but not quickly enough. Lucio’s claws slashed across his face, cutting three long gashes into his cheek. Julian staggered, clapping a hand to his wounds. 

Damian gasped, freezing in horror. It was all Meleia could do to avoid crying out. Asra’s eyes went wide. 

Julian straightened up. He was wincing in pain, but he was far from out. Meleia distinctly heard Damian let out a relieved sigh. 

Apparently, Julian heard it, too. He glanced over to them. He caught Damian’s eye. And that was all it took. He shot Damian, Meleia, and Asra a quick, confident smile. And then he glared right at Lucio. 

“You really think that’s enough to take me down?” he jeered. 

Lucio snarled. “You really want to die that badly?” 

“I believe I’ve heard that one before,” Julian taunted. “Didn’t work the first time. What makes you think it’ll work now?” 

Lucio didn’t reply. He simply attacked. 

Julian sidestepped, almost like he was avoiding a charging bull. Lucio screeched to a halt and went for another slice with his claws. Julian danced out of the way. 

Asra silently signaled to the others. Both Meleia and Damian nodded. As one, they slid to the perfect position and fully stretched out the banner. 

Julian dodged one more attack. Then he feinted, throwing an overly dramatic punch of his own. To Meleia, it was clearly fake. But Lucio must have thought it was simply a sad attempt at an attack. Lucio grinned wickedly and easily sidestepped. Julian stopped short, his eyes overly wide in apparent fear. Lucio’s smirk widened. He went in for another attack. 

“_Now! _” Asra shouted. 

He and Meleia dashed forward, each holding their ends of the banner. Damian tossed the middle of it directly into Lucio’s face. Lucio cried out, the sound a wordless, almost feral roar. He tried to rip himself free, but Asra and Meleia were already on the move. They wove around each other almost as though they were dancing. Each twist and turn got Lucio more tightly snared. His gauntlet was pinned to his side. His legs snapped together. And Lucio toppled. He hit the ground in a sad, helplessly tied heap. He flailed around on the ground, looking like nothing more than a beached fish. 

“Hey!” he screamed. “That’s cheating!” 

Nadia stepped forward. She cast a single, disdainful glance at Lucio. Then she looked at the motley crew. Asra stood firm by Meleia’s side. Meleia shifted awkwardly, caught somewhere between embarrassment, relief, and pride. Damian fussed over Julian’s cut cheek. Julian tried to fuss over Damian at the same time. Portia grinned with sheer, unbridled excitement.

Nadia gazed at the group with all of the pride in the world. She gave them all a warm smile. 

“Well done, everyone. I’m very impressed.” 

Meleia blushed. Asra put a warm hand on her shoulder. Portia’s grin, somehow, got even wider. Julian and Damian managed to pry their attention off of each other for long enough to smile back at the Queen. 

Then Nadia loomed over Lucio once again. Any trace of joy or humor instantly vanished. She glared down at him with utter distaste. She leveled the sword at his throat. 

“Now,” she hissed. “What shall we do with you and your little friends?” 


	42. The Truth Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which several truths finally come out.

Lucio wriggled around again. But when it was clear that he wasn’t going to escape any time soon, he tried to shuffle around to look up at Nadia. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” he said desperately. He made an attempt at a pleading smile. “We obviously got off on the wrong foot here.”

“That’s an understatement,” Julian cut in.

“But we’re all friends here, right?” Lucio went on. “We can clear this up.” 

“Oh?” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “And what, exactly, is there to clear up?” 

“Well, Damian’s alive, right?” said Lucio. “And I told you where he was! So we should--”

“You _ also _ told me he was dead,” Nadia snapped. “Not to mention what seem to be countless other lies.” 

“All I’ve ever done was try to help!” Lucio protested. 

“No,” Damian snapped. “All _ you’ve _ ever done was cheat and lie! Everything you’ve ever done was to serve yourself! And you’d say anything to save your own tail. We _ all _ know that now.” 

“You can’t honestly believe I’m going to be lenient after you threatened to kill everyone here,” Nadia scoffed. 

“You’re just a coward,” Damian spat. “And a traitor.” 

“Not to mention a kidnapper,” Julian piped up.

“And your dogs are the worst,” Portia added. 

“You’d even kick an innocent animal,” Meleia said coldly. “Just to get what _ you _ wanted. You never cared about anyone else.” 

Her hands were shaking. Her fists were clenched in pure, cold fury. She had never hated anyone as much as she hated Lucio right in that moment. Not even Valerius. 

And by the look on his face, Asra hated the Count twice as much as she did. 

“That’s only the start, isn’t it?” Asra hissed. “Not only did you try to kill the prince, the queen, and several members of their most trusted staff, not only did you throw Meleia in the dungeon under false pretenses--”

Lucio growled in fury. “_She _was the one roaming around under--!” 

“But you’re also a thief,” Asra snapped. 

“_Excuse _ me?” Lucio yelled. 

Asra’s gaze turned unmistakably to Lucio’s golden arm. “That arm of yours is an alchemical masterpiece.” 

Lucio’s fury gave way to complete confusion. “Yes? And?” 

Meleia distinctly caught Damian and Julian looking almost as lost as Lucio did, but she didn’t really have time to do anything about that at the moment. 

“You said it yourself the day I came to Vesuvia, didn’t you?” said Asra, still glaring at Lucio. “That arm was imported.” 

Lucio raised an eyebrow. “Your point?” 

“It came from _ my _ kingdom,” Asra hissed. "_My parents _ made that arm. It was a commission from a noble from a far-away kingdom. Mom and dad spent countless hours working on it. Not to mention far too many resources. And when they were finished, a messenger came to pick it up, promising he would return with payment-- and then some-- for their wonderful work.” 

“Still waiting for the _ point _ here,” said Lucio. 

“They were never compensated.” Asra’s tone was colder than Meleia had ever heard. “We waited and waited and waited, and we never heard anything. My parents were devastated. They thought all their hard work had been for nothing. If they find out that the man who had them build that arm was traipsing around, _ flaunting _ it...” 

He trailed off. He looked like he was on the verge of angry tears. Meleia automatically put a comforting hand on his shoulder. She didn’t really know how she could help, but she wanted him to know she was there. Asra shot her a small, but grateful, smile. 

Lucio scoffed. “Is _ that _ all? That happened _ years _ ago. You should really be over it by now, not yelling at me.” 

“You don’t deny it, then?” Nadia’s tone was decidedly dangerous. 

“So a bit of paperwork got lost in the mail,” said Lucio casually. “Doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Now, then. Damian’s alive, hooray for that, and all his little friends are here. We can laugh and drink and carry on about it all later. After you let me go.” 

For a long, long moment, the courtyard was deathly silent. Then Nadia let out a low sigh. 

“Allow me to clarify,” she said. “You _ kidnap _ my son, attempt to have him _ killed, _ frame one of our most loyal assistants and his personal guest for your _ own _ crimes...” 

“So you admit it, then!” Lucio shouted, glaring accusingly at Meleia. “You admit that she was conspiring with--”

“You _ dare _ to try to take advantage of my distress to trick me into giving up _ my _ throne,” Nadia continued relentlessly, “all the while berating our staff and forcing them to do far too much work in far too short a time. Then, when your plans start to unravel, you try to run instead of facing justice. When that fails, you decide to kill everyone who stands in your way.” She glanced at Damian, who stood steadfast by her side. “Have I left anything out?” 

“He _ did _do a little conspiring of his own,” he replied. Then he stopped glaring at Lucio for long enough to give Meleia a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry you have to hear this, Meleia, but Valerius was working with him.” 

Lucio somehow turned paler than he normally was. “I-I... have _ no _ idea who you’re--”

“Lord Valerius?” Nadia repeated, once again cutting Lucio off. “The tailor from the city? He was involved in this as well?” 

Meleia probably should have felt awful. She’d just found out she’d been working for someone cruel and heartless enough to put the entire kingdom in jeopardy... not to mention the lives of her friends. And her own life. But...

“Honestly?” Meleia sighed. “I’m not exactly surprised...” 

“Was Valerius the one who kidnapped you?” Nadia asked Damian. 

Damian shook his head. “No. _ Those _two did.” 

He pointed directly at the other two that they had captured, the warrior in red and the skinny guy. The warrior lurched against their bonds again. The skinny one tried to sink into his tangled clothes. 

Nadia’s eyes narrowed. Somehow, she managed to look even more dangerous than before. 

“I see,” she hissed. “So. You had the sheer _ gall _ to get one of your associates to officiate this sad attempt to seize power?” 

“Now, Noddy, it’s not--”

“Frankly, I’m embarrassed,” said Nadia. “I should have known. I should have seen it all. But after all your years of faithful assistance... perhaps I didn’t want to.” She sighed, closing her eyes in a grimace, but her sword point never wavered. “What else have I allowed you to get away with? What else has happened that I have failed to stop?” 

“How about the entire reason Vesuvia’s nearly bankrupt in the first place?” Julian cut in. 

All eyes were instantly on Julian. Even Damian looked shocked.

“He’s _ what?_” Damian blurted out. 

Julian crossed his arms. “I heard it myself. He got his cohorts to sneak into the mines and steal the rest of the gold.”

Lucio let out a crazed-sounding laugh. “Come on, Jules, I know you love telling tall tales, but this one is just--”

“Lucio, shut up,” Nadia snapped. “For once in your life, just... _ shut up. _” 

Lucio shut up. 

Nadia gave Julian a nod. Julian went on. 

“Those two were complaining about having to do all of the work,” Julian explained, glancing dismissively at Vulgora and Vlastomil. “Including completely clearing out the mines.” 

Nadia’s gaze flicked to Vulgora and Vlastomil for a moment before she went right back to glaring at Lucio. 

“So that’s what this mysterious ‘business venture’ of yours was all about,” she hissed. “You have a lot to answer for, Lucio.” 

Lucio growled. “Fine, fine, I’ll give the gold back, whatever. Now let me go already!” 

“Yes, you _ will _ return the gold you stole,” said Nadia. “And you will pay compensation for this disaster of a party out of your _ own _ coffers.” 

“_WHAT?_” Lucio shrieked. 

“After that,” Nadia went on, “I never want to see or hear you again. And you can take those bloody hounds of yours with you. Am I clear?” 

“Noddy, wait, what are you--?”

Nadia raised her voice, drowning out Lucio’s protests. “Lucio, you are hereby banished from my kingdom and all allied territories.” 

“You can’t do that!” Lucio spluttered. “I’m the _ Count!_” 

“And _ I _ am the Queen!” Nadia snapped. 

“You said it yourself, Lucio,” Damian cut in, smirking. “No one disobeys royalty.” 

Lucio let out an incoherent roar of pure rage. Nadia resolutely ignored him. She gave Damian a warm smile. Then she turned to Portia. 

“Portia, would you mind fetching a few guards to escort Lucio off of the palace grounds?” she said, her tone once again regal. “I’m sure he has a distant manor house somewhere, we can hold him there. And I believe his cohorts have earned some time in the dungeons.” 

“Right away, Milady,” Portia agreed. She didn’t even bother to hide a smug smile as she dashed back to the palace proper. 

“You should change the guard,” Meleia called after her. “Ludovico needs a break. And you probably shouldn’t let the guards hang onto the keys for too long!” 

She realized how suspicious that must have sounded the moment the words left her mouth. Of course, by then it was too late. Meleia blushed furiously. But Damian just shot her a proud smile. And Asra laughed aloud. Even Nadia didn’t seem particularly upset. 

“I’ll be sure to take those notes under consideration,” she said. 

Meleia turned even redder than before. 

Nadia’s lips quirked into a smile. But her grin quickly faded. “I only hope there is some way we can make all of this up to you, Meleia. You’ve gone through so much trouble on our behalf...” 

“Oh, no, you don’t need to do anything,” Meleia said quickly. “Really, this... these have been some of the best days of my life.”

“Really?” said Damian, sounding worried. “They all said you were thrown in the dungeon...” 

“I’m so sorry that happened, Meleia,” Julian cut in. Meleia couldn’t help but notice that his hand still rested firmly on Damian’s shoulder. “If I had been there--”

“Lucio would have found some other way to ensure his plan worked,” said Nadia, cutting him off. “I am very glad you all arrived in time to stop it.” 

Lucio started another tirade of protests. Nadia quickly put an end to it by putting the tip of her sword directly in front of his nose. 

“Am I allowed to kick him?” Damian asked. “I think after all this...” 

Julian chuckled. “Tempting. But he’s not worth it. Trust me.” 

“And what is _ that _ supposed to mean?_” _ Lucio demanded. He was roundly ignored. 

Damian’s hands curled into fists. Meleia fully expected him to say something along the lines of wanting to punch Lucio instead of kicking him. But then Damian sighed. And his hands relaxed. 

“You’re right,” said Damian. “He’s not.” 

Julian tossed an arm over Damian’s shoulder and gave him a playful shake. Meleia smiled. She was happy to see those two so close. 

At that point, Portia returned with the guards in tow. The conversation paused for a moment. Everyone was happy to watch Lucio and his cohorts hauled away. Meleia felt a savage surge of pride as she saw how well her handiwork held up, even under the extreme protests of their captors. It certainly helped that Ludovico was amongst the guards. He gave her a nod as they passed by. Meleia smiled back. She’d never blamed him for guarding her, but she was relieved that there were no hard feelings. 

“Glad we finally managed to clean up that mess,” Portia quipped. Then she scowled. “Looks like cleaning rest of the courtyard’s gonna take a bit longer...” 

“Consider yourself relieved of that particular duty, Portia,” said Nadia with a slight smile. “You certainly deserve a break.” 

Portia sighed in pure relief. “_Thank _ you, Milady.” 

“You’re quite welcome,” said Nadia. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid that the mess Lucio started is far from being dealt with.” She grimaced. “He’s caused so much harm... to think what might have happened to Damian...” 

“But it didn’t,” Damian cut her off. “Thanks to Meleia. And Julian. And, apparently, Portia and the Majestro as well.” 

Julian laughed and gave a very show-offish bow. Meleia giggled awkwardly. Asra shook his head, though he looked amused. 

“You’re quite right,” said Nadia. Please let us know how we can repay you. _ All _ of you. Though I am afraid I may need to ask for your help once again. We must deal with Lucio’s conspirators, of course. I believe you may have been right, Majestro... it’s high time that the Vesuvian justice system included a fair trial.” 

Asra nodded, looking rather proud. Damian stared at him, completely lost. 

“Apparently, I missed a lot,” Damian mused. 

“Not too much,” Asra assured him. “Though... Your Majesty, I should apologize for storming out on you after the... ah... _ incident _ involving Meleia. I hope you won’t refuse the union of our two kingdoms now.” 

“Of course not,” said Nadia at once. “I’m sure even Damian will be glad to have Zadith become Vesuvia’s ally... I am only grateful that you are still willing, Majestro.” 

“More than willing,” Asra agreed. 

Meleia’s stomach lurched. At that moment, all that they accomplished didn’t seem to matter. Everything was going back to normal. Meleia was probably going to be sent home any minute now. If she had a home to be sent back _ to. _ The shop probably wouldn’t last much longer now that Valerius had been outed as a traitor to the crown... she supposed she could keep it running on her own. She practically had even when Valerius was around. But what would happen to Volta? 

“Majestro, I’m sorry, but if I might interrupt for a moment?” Damian cut in.

All eyes were instantly on him. He squared his shoulders. 

“Majestro... and Mother, I suppose,” he said, his tone nervous but his eyes determined. “I would be glad to fulfill my duties and make sure Vesuvia and Zadith officially become allies. But... there is something I cannot go through with.” 

“Oh?” Nadia raised an eyebrow. “And what might that be?” 

Damian took a deep breath. “Majestro... I mean, Asra... I’m sorry, but I cannot marry you.” 

The courtyard was silent. The knot in Meleia’s stomach eased up the tiniest bit, almost despite herself. 

“Not that you aren’t a wonderful person,” Damian said quickly. “And I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. Honestly, I’d be thrilled to visit Zadith someday and trade alchemy stories with your parents. But I’m in love with someone else. So... I can’t marry you.” 

The silence only grew, if that were possible. Meleia shifted her weight awkwardly. She found she couldn’t meet Damian’s eyes. Or Asra’s. 

At last, Nadia spoke up. 

“Damian, my dear, whoever said _ anything _ about marrying the Majestro?” 

Damian’s jaw dropped. Julian spluttered in sheer surprise. Meleia laughed out loud. She simply couldn’t help it. There were too many mixed up feelings that needed to burst out of her, so it was either that or crying. 

Asra blinked at Nadia. “You told him we were betrothed?” he asked, startled. 

“I most certainly did _ not,_” said Nadia, almost laughing herself. “Whatever put that idea into your head?” 

Damian couldn’t form a coherent answer. “I... uh... what?”

Nadia chuckled. “Honestly, dear, all I have ever wanted was for you to be happy and comfortable. I would never pry you away from Julian.” 

Both Julian and Damian turned nearly identical shades of red. 

“Y-your Majesty, I... we... uh...” Julian fumbled. 

“You _ knew?_” Damian gasped. “The whole time, even before I... you _ knew?_” 

“Of course,” said Nadia calmly. “I didn’t realize you were hiding it. You were hardly subtle.” 

“It _ was _ pretty obvious,” Meleia admitted. 

“But...” Damian spluttered. “But you said... I thought we were joining our two kingdoms!” 

“We are,” said Asra. “But it’s very possible to do that _ without _ a royal marriage.” 

Damian’s mouth opened again, but no sound came out. Then he sort of slumped, collapsing against Julian. Julian was quick to wrap an arm around him. 

“Damian, you should have told me how much this was bothering you,” Nadia said gently. “I would never force you into doing something that made you uncomfortable. You know that.” 

“But... it was for the kingdom,” said Damian weakly. “The same reason you were going to marry Lucio.” 

Nadia grimaced. “That is a fair point.” 

“Everyone thought it was going to be a wedding,” Meleia jumped in, leaping to Damian’s defense. “That’s what Julian told me, and it sounded like Lucio had the same idea.” 

“The rumors _ were _ flying all over the castle,” Portia said almost guiltily. 

Nadia sighed. “It seems I will have to be far more careful next time.” 

“Or I could have been more open,” Damian suggested. He groaned. “This all could have been solved if I’d just _ said _ something...” 

“You said plenty to me,” Julian chuckled. “I was the one who felt the need to jump to your rescue.” 

“And I snuck into the palace to try to stop Lucio,” Meleia added. 

“Alright, alright, we can all stop blaming ourselves for things that are totally Lucio’s fault,” Portia said, cutting them all off. 

“Agreed.” said Nadia. “Now, then... I’m sure a few pieces of this reception should be salvageable. Majestro, Meleia, you haven’t had anything to eat all day, have you? And I hesitate to ask when the last time Damian and Julian ate may have been...” 

“Food would be good,” Damian agreed weakly. 

“I’m sure a bath will be welcome, as well,” Nadia suggested. 

Meleia automatically tried to straighten her skirts. She was a mess, though she didn’t look nearly as bad as Damian and Julian. 

Damian hesitated. “What about all the people who came for the wedding?” he asked. “We have to tell them _ something._” 

“Leave the public speaking to me,” said Nadia. “I won’t have any of you burdened with the need to present yourselves before a crowd so soon. And I am quite certain I can find another excuse for their soiree. We have much to celebrate.” 

“Like my engagement to Julian,” said Damian boldly. 

Julian turned beet red, all the way to the tips of his ears. 

Nadia laughed. Her face broke into the widest smile Meleia had ever seen. 

“Exactly,” she said. “I’m sure I can announce our union with Zadith as well.” 

“As long as you make sure Meleia gets the credit she deserves,” said Asra. 

It was Meleia’s turn to become completely red. “I didn’t really do anything...” 

“You did a lot,” said Asra. “So many of your ideas were very useful. I’d be willing to bet the real royal family of Nevivon would love to hear some of the plans we discussed.” 

“Maybe Julian and Damian can suggest them someday,” said Meleia awkwardly. “Julian grew up in Nevivon, he’d know his way around. And I don’t think anyone would ever listen to me.” 

“And why wouldn’t they listen to a daughter of one of the most powerful noble houses in Vesuvia?” Asra asked. 

For what felt like the umpteenth time that day, everyone fell dead silent. 

“What?” Meleia gasped. “But that can’t... I’m not...” 

“I told you I did some research in the library, didn’t I?” Asra said smoothly. “I wanted to find some evidence of your innocence, some proof that would be enough to get you out of that dungeon.” 

Meleia turned bright red. He’d been trying to help her that whole time? After everything that had happened... after the look of heartbreak on his face... he’d still believed in her? She knew it had to be true, considering he came to break her out anyway, but she must have looked ridiculously suspicious. It was all so hard for her to wrap her head around. 

“And what did you find?” Nadia asked. 

“Actually...” Asra caught Damian’s eye. “I found something about our Prince as well.” 

Damian looked just as stunned as Meleia had a moment ago. “Me?” 

“You found the family tree in the archives,” Julian guessed. “And the records of Damian’s adoption.” 

Meleia blinked. She hadn’t realized Damian was adopted. That must have been what he meant when he was talking about Nadia giving him everything. Though she supposed that didn’t particularly matter in the end.

Asra nodded. “I didn’t mean to pry into your family history...” 

“Hard to call it ‘prying’ when every record in Vesuvia must state the same thing,” Nadia said wryly. 

Asra coughed nervously. “Fair point. Anyway... it seems that Damian wasn’t an only child.” 

“What are you talking about?” Damian asked. 

Surprisingly, it was Portia who answered. 

“Oh, _ I _ remember now!” Portia cried. “It was that scandal about duchess something-or-other, right? The whole castle was talking about how her husband ran off with some girl from the Pearl Isles.”

“The Pearl Isles?” Damian repeated. “Don’t they mine a lot of quartz over there?” 

“Like the crystals on Meleia’s necklace?” said Julian. 

Damian stared at Meleia. Apparently, he was only fully registering her necklace for the first time. “You’re right,” he said, sounding stunned. “That one in the middle is rose quartz. I should have noticed before, but I must have been a little distracted...” 

Meleia automatically put a hand on her necklace. “I never knew where it came from. Just that I’ve had it for as long as I can remember.” 

“Damian’s birth father did spend a rather long time traveling the Pearl Isles,” Nadia mused. “And I must admit I had heard rumors about this scandal myself. I believe he attempted to keep his title even after... how shall I put this delicately... _ relocating _ to the Isles.” 

“And, apparently, he had a daughter over there,” said Asra rather awkwardly. “But there’s no record of where she went or what happened to her.” 

“Right,” Portia mused. “Because the whole family was on that ship that went down, right? So everybody thought they drowned.” 

“Or maybe one of them washed up on the shores of Vesuvia,” Asra said quietly. 

Meleia gasped. She wouldn’t have been surprised if her heart had completely stopped beating. 

“I... I was washed up in a shipwreck,” she said. Her voice was weak. “That’s why I never... I had no idea who I...” 

She trailed off. Suddenly, she was very aware of the fact that the Queen was staring at her. But the look on Nadia’s face was something that, surprisingly, might have been pity. 

“It is a rather wild theory,” said Nadia slowly, “but I can’t deny that it is highly possible. Perhaps that is why I trusted you so quickly. You do look like you could be a part of Damian’s family.” 

Damian and Meleia stared at each other. Meleia was almost certain that they both had the exact same look of surprise. 

“Well.” Nadia straightened up. She instantly looked regal again. “It seems we will have to reinstate your noble title. I suppose, since Damian is now my heir, his original noble house needs a true leader. Though I’m not sure if the title of Duchess quite suits our dear Meleia...” 

Meleia instantly went red. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly--”

“_Lady _ is far too simple,” Nadia went on, more to herself than anyone else. “And after all that nonsense with Lucio I hesitate to have you named Countess...” 

“Y-Your Majesty, please,” Meleia cut in. “I really don’t need a title. I don’t deserve one, anyway.” 

“Why not?” Damian demanded. “You’re a _ hero,_ Meleia. If it weren’t for you and Julian, Lucio probably would have gotten away with his scheme.” 

Julian shuddered. “Which would mean you would be his husband right now.” 

Damian gagged. “Ugh. I’d rather be trapped in the mines.” 

“Agreed,” said Julian instantly. 

“I’m so glad you both got out,” Meleia sighed. “If anything happened to you two...” 

She trailed off. She couldn’t make herself finish her thought. 

“I quite agree,” said Nadia. “Which is why I must insist we repay you, somehow. The dress is yours, of course... though I can see it will need cleaning before it’s suitable to wear again.” 

Meleia blushed all over again. “This...? But I couldn’t possibly--”

“Better yet, I can have a new gown commissioned for you,” Nadia went on, hardly letting Meleia get a word in edgewise. “But a single gown is hardly enough reward for your services. So. Tell me. If you do not wish to have a title, what can I grant you?” 

“I... I really don’t need anything,” Meleia insisted. 

“You’ll probably need a place to stay,” Damian suggested. “Sounds like there will be a manor house up for grabs soon. And I doubt Valerius is going to be allowed to keep his shop after this. Not if I have anything to say about it,” he added bitterly. 

Nadia sighed. “It seems we will have to set up another trial... I hope it is not too cruel of me to ask you to stand witness, Meleia. It would be good to have a firsthand account of his discrepancies.” 

“Of course I’ll help,” Meleia agreed at once. “Valerius was always horrible to...” 

Her words faded out again. She’d just thought of a way for the palace to repay her. A way that wouldn’t make her feel guilty. 

“Meleia, are you alright?” Asra asked. 

“I’m fine,” she promised. “Actually, I... I think there _ is _ something you can do for me, Your Majesty.” 

“Name it,” said Nadia at once. 

“I wasn’t the only seamstress at the shop,” Meleia began. 

Damian clapped a hand to his forehead. “Of course! Volta!” 

“I’m sorry, who?” said Nadia. 

“Volta works with me,” said Meleia. “Or... _ worked_, I guess. She’s the closest thing to family I have.” 

Her stomach lurched. She wasn’t sure why she’d just admitted that. But she knew it was true. At least it had been. But maybe, just maybe, she could think of Damian and Julian and Portia and everyone else at the palace as a part of her family now. She knew that they would be more than happy to accept that if she ever asked. 

So what did that make Asra? 

“Volta helped me after Valerius captured me,” Damian added. “I promised her I would get her out of that horrible shop.” He turned to Nadia. “Do you think we can find work for her here? At the palace?” 

“I don’t see why not,” said Nadia. “I’ll be sure to have someone sent for her. Or perhaps you two would like to fetch her as soon as you have had a moment to collect yourselves?” 

“Of course,” said both Meleia and Damian at the same time.

They glanced at each other again, both surprised. Then they laughed. They really were similar. And now that Meleia was looking for it, she did see a bit of a resemblance between them. 

“You know, I probably should have noticed you two were related before,” Portia piped up. 

That made both Damian and Meleia let out another awkward laugh. 

Nadia smiled fondly. “Indeed. Perhaps, Meleia, I may offer the same solution to your problem that I have offered your friend Volta?” 

Damian grinned. “That sounds like an excellent idea.” He turned to Meleia, still beaming. “Meleia, would you like to stay with us in the palace as well? Even if you don’t want a title, there are always a thousand things to do here. You could sing, or sew, or do anything you’d like.” 

Meleia’s heart did a funny little flip. “Me? Stay in the palace?” 

“Of course,” said Nadia. “We would be more than happy to have you.” 

Meleia found herself completely frozen. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. They were actually offering her a chance to live in the palace. And they would let her choose what she wanted to do. She could do _ anything_. She could be anyone. 

Forge seemed to love the idea. He bounded right up to Meleia and rubbed against her ankles. He made a sound at her that was distinctly pleading. He must have wanted to stay with Oswald and his other new friends. Oswald, apparently, was all for having Forge stay as well, since he chirped every time Forge made a sound. 

Meleia crouched down, absently petting Forge’s soft ears. It did sound wonderful. But her mind kept wandering back to what she had told Asra in the garden. And what she had told Damian at the town square. 

She was free of Valerius. And Volta was safe. Now, she could finally choose her own path. She could go anywhere she wanted. She might even be able to go to the Pearl Isles that Portia had mentioned and find some hint about her past. Or better yet, she could move towards a brand new future. 

Damian was a great friend. And Julian, Portia, and Nadia were all wonderful. Staying with them sounded absolutely incredible. But Damian had told her he hardly ever got a chance to explore. He’d hardly even known anything about his own city. Meleia had a feeling he was going to be fixing that soon, but still... a life stuck in one place wasn’t really what Meleia had ever wanted. 

At last, she straightened up. Everyone was looking at her, waiting for her decision. It almost made her want to back down. But she wasn’t going to do that. Not anymore. 

“I’m sorry,” said Meleia. “It sounds wonderful, but... I can’t spend my whole life cooped up in Vesuvia. I want to see the world.” 

For some reason, she found herself glancing at Asra. Asra smiled, though Meleia thought it didn’t quite reach his eyes. That made her heart lurch all over again. 

She expected everyone to be upset. Or at least disappointed. But they all just beamed at her. Nadia’s expression was particularly warm. 

“Of course,” said Nadia. “We completely understand. And we certainly would not want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“I’m not,” Meleia said at once. “I promise I’m not. I just... I think it’s time for something new. I’ve always wanted to explore. To share my songs. And now...”

“I completely understand,” said Nadia. “We would be more than happy to get you started. And I hope you know that you are welcome to stay with us whenever you happen to return.” 

“Thank you,” Meleia breathed. “Thank you so much!” 

Portia laughed. “Aw, come on, it’s no problem! Especially now that we have all the gold back. Or we will, soon. I’m sure we can spare a bit on a nice ship for you.” 

“Indeed.” Nadia’s expression and tone both darkened. “Though I fear the return of the stolen gold is only a temporary solution. I do not wish to allow my kingdom to fall so close to ruin again.” 

Damian and Julian exchanged a very knowing look. 

“I think Damian can help with that,” said Julian proudly. 

“We found something while we were stuck in the mines,” Damian explained. If he saw the Queen wince at that, he didn’t show it. “There are rare crystals buried deep in the abandoned caverns. If we opened some of those caverns back up, we could...” 

He stepped forward, eager to talk directly to the queen... only to stumble back. Julian lurched forward and caught him before he fell. 

“Easy, there,” he said gently. “Gods, you must be exhausted. Not to mention starving.”

Damian’s stomach rumbled. “I am a little hungry,” he admitted. 

“No wonder,” Julian chuckled fondly. “It’s been a rough week.” 

“For all of us,” Nadia agreed somberly. “But we can put aside the difficulties for now. We have many more reasons to celebrate than to worry.” 

“Oh, um, Milady?” Portia cut in. She suddenly looked very nervous. “Speaking of celebrations... I... uh...” 

Portia’s face nearly matched her hair. She was wringing her hands nervously, reminding Meleia of the way Volta always acted before saying something very serious. 

Nadia must have gotten the same general impression, because her eyes widened. “Portia? Is something wrong?” 

“N-no!” Portia blurted out. “I mean, uh, not _ wrong, _ exactly. It’s just... I... well... there’s something I wanted to ask you.” 

Julian gasped. His eyes went wide. He grabbed Damian’s arm almost compulsively. Damian stared at him in utter confusion. 

“Julian, what--?”

“Shh!” Julian hissed. Damian glared at him indignantly. 

Portia swallowed nervously. “Wh-when I saw you almost get married to the Count, I... I was so scared! I didn’t want to lose you like that! And definitely not to _ him._” 

Nadia looked far more shocked than Meleia had ever seen. “Portia... are you saying what I believe you are trying to say?” 

Julian let out a noise that was absolutely giddy. He looked utterly riveted as he watched his sister and the countess. Damian clapped his hand over Julian’s mouth, never once taking his eyes off of the girls.

“I...” Portia floundered for a bit. Then she took a deep breath, steeling herself. “Milady... _ Nadia,_ you’re amazing and spectacular and on top of being super worried I was kind of jealous when you were getting married and I _ know _ it’s stupid but I--”

“Portia!” Nadia was almost laughing. “Please, slow down. Tell me what’s on your mind.” 

“I want to go on a date with you!” Portia blurted out. 

She looked like she regretted the words the instant she said them. Nadia, on the other hand, looked pleasantly surprised. 

“Why, Portia,” she laughed. “I thought you would never ask.” 

Somehow, Portia managed to turn even redder. But she was grinning like an idiot. “R-really?” 

“Of course,” said Nadia. “I would be more than happy to go on a date with you. As soon as time allows, of course.” 

Julian pulled Damian’s arm away from his face and let out a loud whoop. “See, Pasha? Told you so!” 

Portia glared at her brother. “Oh, sure. Like you can talk, mister ‘_ what if Damian secretly hates me'_!” 

Damian stared back and forth between them. He looked like he was about to fall over again. 

“Alright,” he declared. “This is officially the strangest day of my life. So. Are we allowed to get food now?”

Nadia started. “Of course. I am so sorry that I’ve been keeping all of you from the feast you deserve. We will have to have a proper meal together later. In the meantime, I believe we have another addition to our list of reasons to celebrate.” She offered Portia her arm. “Shall we?” 

Portia instantly turned red again. But she took Nadia’s arm. They almost looked natural together. Meleia let out a happy little sigh. At long, long last, everything was perfect.

Asra turned to her with a smile. He offered her his arm in much the same way Nadia had offered to walk with Portia. 

“Care to join me?” Asra asked. 

Meleia couldn’t say anything. Her throat seemed to have closed up. Her hands started shaking. But she managed to take Asra’s arm anyway. 

Asra smiled at her. That smile made her feel like her heart was about to be torn out. 

Yes, everything was perfect. But as Asra swept her back into the castle proper, she couldn’t help but worry. She knew that this moment couldn’t last forever. It wouldn’t be long before she would have to say goodbye. 

That would be hard enough when she had to part with her newfound friends... friends that may have even been her newfound _ family. _ Traveling the world also meant saying goodbye to Volta. She doubted Volta would actually want to travel with her once she had a new, far more comfortable job at the palace. Meleia didn’t regret her choice. And she knew that she would come back, that she would see them all again. 

But she wasn’t sure if she would ever see the Majestro again. 

That would be the most difficult goodbye of them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the home stretch! One more chapter and the epilogue and then we're done! 
> 
> This project has been so amazing to work on, and I really hope you stick with me to the end! 
> 
> (Side note, I had way too much fun throwing in a ton of references to the game.)
> 
> HUGE shout-out to my best friend and proofreader for giving me the idea of Damian and Meleia being half-siblings! I had put way too many accidental hints to that twist for me not to make it canon XD


	43. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Meleia has a lot of feelings.

The next week was probably the best week of Meleia’s life. 

It started with the celebration that very evening. Despite the absolute mess that Lucio’s escape attempt had caused, the feast itself was magnificent. The food that had been spared from the general chaos was still wonderful, and the kitchens had been working overtime on Lucio’s orders as it was, so there was plenty more where that had all come from. 

It helped that Meleia, Asra, Julian, and Damian were given their own private room. Damian and Julian somehow managed an awful lot of hand-holding while they shoveled their food down. For her part, Meleia was just glad to see them both again. She and Asra helped get Damian and Julian caught up on what had happened in the palace while they were gone. And Damian had instantly jumped on a few more negotiations that Meleia had missed when she was trying to fill in for him. It seemed Vesuvia and Zadith’s union would be even better than before. And Meleia had to appreciate how easily Damian smiled now that he didn’t have to worry about marrying the Majestro. 

After that, Meleia and Asra were only too glad to escape the chaos of the castle for a much more quiet moment by the fountain. Well, as quiet as it could be with a snake and a fox constantly chasing each other around. Faust seemed to be able to climb from tree to tree without ever touching the ground, so Forge was having the time of his life chasing her from his spot in the grass. 

“They really do get along,” Asra chuckled after watching them romp for a while. 

“They do,” Meleia agreed. “I’d hate to tear Forge away from his new friend.” 

Asra looked sad for a moment. They both knew that they would have to part all too soon. But then he shrugged, trying to look careless. 

“That won’t happen for a while yet,” he said easily. “There’s still plenty of work left to do before any of us head off.” 

Meleia nodded, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer. 

“Hope Muriel’s doing alright,” Asra mused. “I know Inanna helped him find a spot where he could be completely alone, but...” 

“But it’s easy to worry when your family isn’t right by your side,” Meleia agreed, remembering all the times she’d worried about Volta. 

“Exactly,” said Asra. 

“I’m sure your parents miss you,” said Meleia. She didn’t know why she said it. Or why it gave her an ache inside. 

Asra shrugged. “Probably. I miss them, too, sometimes. But it isn’t the first time I’ve been away from home for a while.” 

“Really?” Meleia asked. 

“I probably shouldn’t complain,” Asra sighed, “especially considering everything you’ve gone through. And I don’t even know the entire story there.” 

“There isn’t much to tell,” said Meleia. “Valerius made us work too hard for too little. That’s part of the reason I wanted to escape so badly. Coming here... it was like I was living in a storybook. It seemed so impossible.” 

It still seemed impossible. Particularly when Asra smiled at her. 

“I felt the same way,” he told her. “I admit, I get away as often as I can. And I’m not exactly caught up on all of my royal duties...” 

His cheeks were tinted with scarlet. Meleia laughed. That just made Asra blush harder. 

“Alright, I know, I could probably afford to be a bit more like a true Majestro...” 

“It’s fine,” Meleia assured him, though she was still giggling a bit. “I think you’re perfect just the way you are.” 

She instantly snapped her mouth shut. Now she was the one who turned completely scarlet. Why, _ why _ had she said that out loud? Was she cursed to embarrass herself in front of Asra until the end of time? 

But Asra didn’t seem concerned at all. He rested his hand on top of hers, just like he had done that night they had both snuck away from their duties. 

“Thank you,” he said softly. “You’re pretty perfect yourself.” 

Meleia had no way to respond to that. Thankfully, she was distracted almost immediately. Forge’s attempt to chase Faust had ended with Forge falling directly into the fountain. 

“Forge!” Meleia jolted upright and hurried to help him out. 

\--------

Nadia insisted that Meleia, Asra, Julian, and Damian use the next day to rest and recuperate. Everyone’s needs were tended to, from treating the minor wounds that Damian and Julian had sustained to replacing everyone’s ruined clothes to simply sleeping in and having a warm bath. Meleia got to use the bath with the fountain again, which made both her and Forge very happy. 

Somehow, though, she couldn’t find it in herself to sing this time. 

When they were all healed and fed and refreshed, they spent most of the time hanging about in the palace together. Each recounted their own sides of what had happened. Meleia felt even more like she shouldn’t have been praised as a hero after hearing what Damian and Julian had gone through, but both of them thanked her over and over to the point where she really couldn’t argue with them anymore. 

She couldn’t help but notice how often Damian and Julian smiled at each other. Nor did she miss the frequent romantic gestures, often as small as just holding hands or stealing glances. 

Those moments always made Meleia’s smiles feel a little forced. 

She was so happy for them. Of _ course _ she was. She couldn’t imagine anything better for either of them. They had gotten everything they had wanted, and they certainly deserved that happy ending. 

A part of Meleia still wasn’t sure if her own wish had come true, yet. She didn’t even know if it _ could. _

When everyone was suitably back on their feet, the real work began. While Lucio had already been banished-- and Nadia was constantly sending messengers out to ensure he _ stayed _ banished-- they still had to contend with the trials of Vulgora, Vlastomil, and Valerius. Meleia assisted in all three. 

She admitted to having fun sitting with Damian as dual prosecutors against Lucio’s goons. She didn’t have much to add, since Damian absolutely ripped into the pair. Julian was quite helpful as star witness, and Meleia was pleased to see that he was as dramatic as ever. 

Playing the role of star witness herself, though, was far less fun. The trial against Valerius lasted far longer, since many people were familiar with his shop. Recounting every terrible thing that he had done to her and Volta was painful, and at times the assembled crowd didn’t believe her. But it needed to be done. It helped that both Volta and Damian were there to share their own experiences. Volta was nervous at first, but she seemed almost joyful when she discovered she could tell everyone about Valerius’ cruelty without any real repercussions. 

At the end of it all, both she and Volta were assured that Valerius would never bother them again... nor would he ever be allowed to open another shop. 

Which meant that they needed to clean out the building. Volta seemed only too happy to do so. Meleia was a bit more hesitant. 

Not even an hour after the trial had concluded and Valerius’ merchant’s licence had been revoked, Meleia, Volta, Damian, and Julian all gathered at the shop. While Asra stayed back at the palace to discuss a few things with Nadia, and Muriel stubbornly remained by Asra’s side, Damian and Julian had volunteered to help Meleia move out. 

It was Damian who made the decision to claim all of the unused fabrics for the palace, to which both Meleia and Volta wholeheartedly agreed. Meleia came up with the idea to donate all of the unsold clothing to those in need. Damian and Julian both gave her far too much gold in exchange for keeping a few of the outfits for themselves. 

That left Meleia a little embarrassed, but more than a little honored. The embarrassment won for a moment when Damian picked out a relatively old, completely unadorned cloak. 

“Are you sure you want that one?” Meleia asked. “It’s been in our stock for weeks...” 

“Must have been waiting for the right person to come along and find it, then,” said Damian. “Someone who actually appreciates hard work and artistry, perhaps.” 

“I don’t know about _ artistry,_” said Meleia, eyeing the decidedly ordinary cloak. 

“I do,” Damian rebuffed. “Trust me, I’ve had _ more _ than enough art lessons to last a lifetime. Your work truly is incredible. Besides,” he added with a smile that showed he was already spending far too much time with Julian, “this is likely our last chance to get our hands on a true Meleia original.” 

He found the tag that marked the cloak as coming from Valerius’ shop, grabbed a stray pair of shears, and dramatically snipped it off. Meleia could only stare, dumbfounded. 

“What...?” 

“Something tells me you won’t have much time to make clothing when you become a world-renowned singer,” said Damian. 

Meleia let out a stunned laugh. “I highly doubt I’ll ever be a world-renowned _ anything._” 

“You never know until you try,” said Damian. 

Meleia found herself staring down at the floor. Forge looked back up at her, concerned. He was still clinging close to her legs, as though expecting Valerius to appear any second. 

That was when Meleia realized that she half expected the same thing. She was so used to Valerius berating her and insulting her work. She was so used to feeling ashamed and worthless, particularly inside these walls, that she'd already started to forget what it had felt like at the palace. How amazing being with Asra felt. How she felt welcomed when she had chatted with Damian for the first time, and every time after. How, when Nadia had given her that gown, she had felt beautiful for the first time in her life. 

She picked up Forge and gently pet his head. 

“It’s okay now,” she said softly. “We don’t have to be afraid anymore. We’re free.” 

She didn’t know who needed to hear those words more. But she was glad she had said them. It felt like a burden had finally been lifted off of her shoulders. 

Damian grinned at her. “You’re right. We’re free. All of us.” 

He looked so proud that Meleia almost laughed. 

“Well, I think that’s everything,” said Damian as he added the cloak to the pile of clothing he’d claimed. “I’ll ask Julian to help haul all this out. Do you need any help packing your things?” 

Meleia shook her head. “I’ll take care of it.” 

Damian nodded. “Understood. I’ll meet you outside.” 

With that, he picked up his haul and slipped outside. Oswald peeped a goodbye to Forge, who wagged his tail in return. 

Meleia went upstairs to the tiny room that she and Volta had shared. It seemed odd that it had been home such a short time ago. Now she could see how miserable it truly was. 

Still. A part of her knew she would miss the shop. It _was _ the only home she’d ever known. It was hard to leave it behind, no matter how pathetic that home may have been. 

She was excited to find a new home, of course. To finally get the chance to explore the world she’d always wanted to know was a dream come true. And she knew she wouldn’t be leaving forever. She could always come back to Vesuvia whenever she wanted to. 

But there was always something difficult and terrifying about saying goodbye. Even to something so seemingly small. 

It took longer than it probably should have for her to pack up the rest of her meager belongings. All of them fit in the chest that she and Volta had once shared, with plenty of room to spare. She left the small sleeping mats abandoned on the floor. She would have to ask Damian to throw them away or find somewhere that could use them for something new. No one deserved to sleep on things like that. 

She was surprised to see that Damian wasn’t there when she lugged her trunk outside. Neither was Volta. Julian stood alone by the carriage. His eyes lit up when he saw her. 

“Ah, there you are!” he cried dramatically. He dashed over to her and moved to take her trunk. “Allow me, milady.” 

“Julian, wha...?” 

That was all that Meleia managed to say before Julian snatched the trunk out of her hands and easily carried it over to the carriage. Despite the fact that it was old and half-empty, Julian placed the trunk inside with all the delicacy of one handling glass. 

“There, now.” He dusted off his gloves. “That’s everything, I believe?” 

He raised an eyebrow at Meleia, along with shooting her his signature smile. Meleia could only stare blankly back. 

“Well, yes, but--”

“Excellent!” Julian cried. 

He was standing next to Meleia in two long strides. He scooped a very startled Forge up in one arm, hooked Meleia’s elbow with the other, and swept off into the streets. Forge and Meleia were dragged helplessly along with him. 

“Julian, what is going on?” said Meleia, half-laughing. 

“You’ll see,” Julian grinned again. 

“Julian...” Meleia sighed. 

“Don’t worry, it’s perfectly safe,” Julian chuckled. “Damian has a surprise for you.” 

“He does?” Meleia asked, stunned. 

But Julian just pressed a finger to his lips, which only jostled Forge more. Forge was beginning to look very put out. 

In a few moments they were near the town square. Meleia saw the tall fountain first... and almost idly wondered if they would have to remodel it. Though now that she had seen Count Lucio in person, she knew that he really bore no resemblance to the majestic rider in the statue. Still, she wouldn’t put it past either Damian or Nadia to get rid of every trace of Lucio around the entire kingdom. That would probably be the worst punishment in history for Lucio. Which just made Meleia think that she should suggest exactly that to Damian, just in case he hadn’t thought of it himself yet. 

She looked up at Julian, about to ask him where Damian was. But Julian was staring at something near the fountain, an adorable smile on his face. 

“There he is,” said Julian fondly. 

Meleia heard Damian before she saw him. At least, she had to assume it was Damian. She’d never heard anyone play guitar like that before. Somehow, it was elegant and lively all at once. She found herself swaying to the beat. A part of her thought that this might be the kind of music that Asra would like to dance to. He had mentioned how much he enjoyed dancing during one conversation or another... but she quickly cast those thoughts aside. She couldn’t bear thinking about Asra right now. It made her chest feel tight. Instead, she focused on trying to find the source of the sound. 

Sure enough, Damian sat right there at the edge of the fountain. His hair and shoulders were flecked with spray from the water. His crown was lopsided; he must have just tossed it on his head. And he had the most peaceful smile that Meleia had ever seen. 

Meleia didn’t want to interrupt the music. But just at that moment, Damian looked up. He caught Julian’s eye first, and they shot one another nearly identical grins. Then Damian spotted Meleia. 

“Here at last,” he laughed, still playing. “Come on over.” 

Meleia released Forge from Julian’s death grip and held him to her own chest before joining Damian at the fountain. 

“It sounds amazing,” said Meleia. “Is this that surprise Julian mentioned?” 

“Almost,” said Damian. 

The song changed, then, so subtly that Meleia wouldn’t have noticed if she didn’t know this new melody so well. She gasped. 

“Damian...” 

“I did say I would accompany you someday, didn’t I?” said Damian, his grin widening. 

Meleia laughed. “You did mention something about it...” 

“No better time than the present, right?” said Damian. 

Meleia wasn’t anywhere near ready for a public performance. It had been a while since she had practiced, and she certainly hadn’t come prepared. She wasn’t even wearing a particularly nice dress, having put on her old work clothes thinking that cleaning out the shop would take longer. Nor did she have any real need to make a few spare coins by singing anymore. 

But she knew this song by heart. And who could resist such a tempting offer? 

So Meleia didn’t argue. She barely even replied. She just put Forge down on the edge of the fountain so he could romp with Oswald again, turned to face the crowd, and sang. 

Damian had been right. The crowd had nearly doubled since the time they had first met. If they had been trying to make money, it would easily have been a small fortune. But neither of them were really thinking about that at the moment. When they weren’t lost in the music, they were looking at the radiant expressions of their audience. Particularly one audience member. Julian looked like he was about to cry. 

“You really do sound incredible,” Damian said softly during an instrumental break. “I would be honored if you would sing this piece for my wedding.” 

Meleia turned bright red. But she grinned at him. 

“I would love to,” she agreed. 

Forge and Oswald must have known something good had just happened, since they both started to do celebratory loops as they frolicked. 

And if a few people laughed at the odd sight of a fox and a bat playing together while the prince and a shopkeep sang in the town square, none of them minded in the least. 

\---------

The days flew by. And, all too soon, it was time to leave. 

Meleia stayed in the palace for about a week more. That granted her enough time to be fitted with an entirely new travel wardrobe at Nadia’s insistence. And it was just long enough for her to begin to think of the palace as home. 

She wouldn’t be leaving forever, of course. Damian had even promised to keep in touch. He insisted she send letters to the palace whenever she got to a new city, and swore to always reply the same day. A bit dramatic, perhaps, but Meleia appreciated the sentiment. 

Naturally, she would be back for the wedding. She wondered how much more would change by the time she got back. So many things already had. 

Meleia stood in the courtyard with Forge nestled up against her ankle. She watched as palace footmen loaded the royal carriage that Nadia had graciously lent her. She would be traveling to the docks in full regal splendor. A part of her wanted to help load the carriage, but the footmen had no trouble with her two large travel bags. It was still hard for her to believe that she _ had _ two travel bags. This was certainly a far cry from how she’d first arrived at the palace: a shy, frightened girl with nothing to her name but a borrowed gown, some nightclothes, and a book. 

She could hardly believe that had happened only a few days ago. Everything felt so different now. _ She _ felt different now. 

This must have been what it was like to feel free. 

“Meleia?” 

Meleia turned around, half-expecting to see Damian again, or Julian. She’d already said her goodbyes to everyone at the palace, of course, and made a thousand promises to visit. But she wouldn’t put it past Julian to try for a dramatic farewell. 

So she was very surprised when she saw a familiar mop of pearly white hair. 

Her breath caught in her throat. “Asra...” 

For a moment, neither of them said anything more. Faust poked her head out of Asra’s sash and slipped down to boop noses with Forge. Forge rubbed his forehead against Faust’s chin, like a cat asking for someone to pet him. 

Then Asra’s eyes met Meleia’s. And the look on his face made her want to crumble. 

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay?” Asra asked. 

Meleia took a deep breath. A part of her, so desperately, wanted to stay. Specifically, she wanted to stay with _ him._ But she knew she shouldn’t. He was the Majestro. He had an entire kingdom to run, and another kingdom to assist. She was just an ex-shopkeep. She had nothing to offer him. 

But maybe, someday, if she managed to really make something of herself, if she really did become the singer she’d always wanted to be... 

“Asra...” her breath hitched again. She sighed. “I can’t. I’ve been trapped in that shop my whole life. Now, I’m finally free. I have to find my own path. Make my own life. You understand, don’t you?” 

Asra didn’t look too happy about it. But he nodded. 

“I do,” he admitted. “So. Where are you going to go first?” 

“I don’t know,” Meleia admitted. “Honestly, I... I have no idea what’s out there. I don’t even know where to start.” 

Asra glanced down at the ground for a moment. Then he peeked up at her through his bangs. The look was incredibly endearing. 

“Any chance you might be heading to Zadith?” Asra asked. “I’ll be heading back soon myself. And my offer of a personal royal tour still stands.” 

Meleia shrugged. “Maybe. Eventually. I really do want to see your kingdom.” 

“It’ll always be there,” said Asra. “And so will I.” 

It was Meleia’s turn to turn her gaze to her shoes. 

Asra sighed. Meleia could see his feet shuffle awkwardly, as though he couldn’t decide whether or not he wanted to come closer. 

“I don’t want to say goodbye yet,” Asra murmured. 

“Neither do I,” said Meleia, so softly she wasn’t sure if he’d heard. 

Asra gently took her hand. Meleia looked up almost automatically. Her eyes went wide. Asra’s expression was almost pleading. 

“Meleia... I... there’s something I should--” 

“_There _ you are!” 

Both Meleia and Asra jumped. Portia dashed right into the courtyard. Asra quickly let go of Meleia’s hand. Both of them were turning bright red. 

Portia caught up to them. “Meleia, I was looking everywhere for you! I thought you’d be in your room, but then Ilya said you might have gone to the kitchens and I wasted _ so _ much time there when I really should know better than to listen to--”

“It’s alright, Portia,” said Meleia, cutting off her rant before it could get too long. “I guess it’s time to go, then?” 

She hoped she didn’t sound too reluctant. She really was looking forward to her journey. Even though there was still a part of her that really didn’t want to leave. 

Portia nodded. “We can head out as soon as you’re ready.” 

Meleia bit back a side. She picked up Forge, hugging him close to her chest. Forge tried to strain towards Faust. Faust wiggled in Forge’s general direction, apparently sharing the sentiment. 

That almost made Meleia burst into tears right there. But she managed to pull herself together. 

“Let’s get going,” she said as firmly as she could. 

Portia grinned. “Alright! One escort to the docks, coming up!” 

She practically bounced into the carriage. Meleia turned and started to follow her. 

Then Asra grabbed her arm. 

“Wait!” 

Meleia froze. But she couldn’t quite manage to turn herself around. She didn’t know if she wanted to see Asra’s face right then. 

“I have an idea,” he said quickly. “Why don’t we meet up at the docks? I can tell you then.”

That made Meleia turn. “Tell me what?” 

“Something important,” said Asra. “So? Meet me at the docks?” 

Well. She couldn’t exactly say no to that. 

“Sure,” she agreed. “I’ll see you there.” 

“You will,” Asra promised. “Wait for me.” 

And so Meleia did. Even with Portia there to tell her all about the docks and gush about how wonderful Meleia’s trip was going to be, the carriage ride seemed far too long. And when at last she arrived at the docks, she immediately began searching for any sign of Asra. Another royal carriage, maybe, or even his wonderfully ridiculous hat. But she didn’t see anything. 

She waited at the docks for as long as she could. She waited until Portia gave her a very teary-eyed goodbye hug. She waited until she had no choice but to get on the ship. 

Asra never came. 

Meleia found herself leaning against the railing, her bags at her feet, watching as Vesuvia grew smaller and smaller. She was leaving everything behind. But this was what she’d always wanted. Wasn’t it? 

“Mind if I join you?” 

Meleia gasped. She jerked away from the railing. She’d know that voice anywhere, but it couldn’t be possible. 

Slowly, she looked up. And her eyes met a pair of wonderfully familiar purple ones, half-hidden under the shade of an equally familiar, feather-decked hat. 

“Asra!” Meleia cried. “What... how did you...?”

“I promised I’d meet you, didn’t I?” Asra laughed. His eyes sparkled. 

“Don’t you have to go back to Zadith?” Meleia asked, worried. 

Asra shrugged. He leaned casually on the railing, bracing himself on his elbows. 

“Mom and dad won’t mind if I’m a little late,” he said lightly. “Besides, Muriel’s on his way back right now. He promised he’d tell them everything.” 

Meleia blinked, stunned. “He is? He hates talking to people.” 

“Usually,” Asra agreed. “But he’s known my parents for a long time. Besides, this is a special occasion.” 

“Really?” Meleia said blankly. “What occasion? Asra, what are you...?” 

Asra burst out laughing. His smile made Meleia’s heart do a funny little flip. 

“Sorry,” Asra managed when he’d finally pulled himself together. “But you said it yourself, didn’t you? It’s about time we saw the world.” 

“But...” Meleia floundered, but Asra cut her off. 

“And I couldn’t let you leave without this.” 

He turned to her and held out his hand. A bracelet sat on his palm. The bracelet was made of seashells that seemed to glitter, even in the bright daylight. 

Meleia gasped. “I thought I broke it! I felt so bad when I realized that--” 

“It’s alright,” Asra assured her. “And it isn’t your fault, really. It was easy enough to fix, anyway.” 

He pushed it towards her a little more. Meleia automatically reached out... but then hesitated. 

“I can’t,” she said. “It was made for a princess.” 

“It was made for someone very special to me,” Asra said softly. “For someone I met a long time ago, when I was just a little kid. For someone I was close to. For someone I cared about more than anything. For someone I lost, and finally found again.” 

Meleia stared up at him. “Asra...?” 

Asra gently took her hand. And, just like before, he slipped the bracelet around her wrist. 

“It was made for you,” he whispered. 

Meleia felt like her heart could have burst right then and there. 

“I know you don’t remember it,” Asra went on, “but we were friends a long time ago. You were one of the nobles at a ball my parents threw. But even then, I thought you were incredible.” 

Meleia flushed. 

“We were so close, back then. And I sort of...” he cut himself with a cough. “Well, I... I would really like to be friends again. And maybe later, something a little more special.” 

Meleia knew for a fact that she was tomato red. But, somehow, she didn’t really mind. 

Faust poked her head out of Asra’s sash. Forge yipped happily and danced around Asra’s shoes, trying to leap up to meet his friend. Neither Asra nor Meleia fully noticed their animal companions’ antics. 

“So what do you say?” Asra asked. “Want to make our dreams come true? Together?” 

Meleia had never felt so wonderful in her entire life. She wanted to sing out to the sky. She wanted to leap into the air in pure glee, and she was certain she would have stayed aloft. But all she could do was grin. 

She didn’t know if what Asra was saying was true. She had no idea if she really could be someone noble. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. Asra wanted to stay with her. To travel with her. She couldn’t imagine anything more perfect. 

“Yes!” she cried. 

And she practically leapt on top of him, tossing her arms around him in a tight hug. Asra staggered a bit, but he managed to catch her. And then he picked her up and twirled them both. Meleia’s skirts flew out around her. The two of them laughed, a sound of sheer joy. Faust and Forge joined in, Faust wiggling happily and Forge prancing around with his tail wagging madly. 

None of them knew what was in store. Their travels could have been wonderful or full of danger. But whatever the world threw at them, they were going to face it together. 

Sure, she had freedom now. But freedom didn’t mean she had to leave anything behind. Sometimes, freedom meant choosing who you wanted to stay with. 

And Meleia would choose Asra over anything else in the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost done! Thank you all so much for going on this journey with me!


	44. Epilogue: Written in Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Though you may not know where your gifts may lead,  
And it may not show at the start,  
When you live your dream you'll find destiny  
Is written in your heart."  
-Written in Your Heart, Barbie Princess and the Pauper

“Julian, _ where _ are you going?” Damian laughed. 

“Ah, come now, Damian,” said Julian lightly. “We don’t want to be late, now, do we?” 

“The boat isn’t going to be here for another hour,” Damian shot back. 

“Which is exactly how long it will take the Crown Prince and his Royal Consort to traverse the deadly maze that is the town square,” said Julian with a grin. 

Damian affectionately rolled his eyes.

“Oh, yes,” Damian quipped. “Gods forbid we should ever run into any more stray fruit carts.” 

Julian let out a bark of laughter. “Damian, darling, you can’t tell me you’re still frightened of those dastardly fruit carts? You haven’t fallen prey to one of those in at least a week.” 

Damian snorted. He and Julian both knew full well that it had been nearly a year since that fateful day Julian had snuck him out into town. The day he’d met Meleia. And they both knew that Damian had gotten far less clumsy than before. Admittedly, a part of that was confidence. After climbing his way out of an abandoned mine with nothing but a few rough crystals, weaving his way through a crowd without bumping into things was no problem at all. 

Julian was just trying to embarass him. Well. Two could play at that game. 

Damian caught up to Julian. And he grabbed his hand. Julian was dragged to a stop. Damian looked up at him, trying to make the cutest expression possible.

“Of course I’m not afraid,” said Damian in the most endearing voice he could. “I’m with _ you._ And I know you’ll always be there for me, no matter what.” 

That did it. Julian’s face instantly went as red as his hair. 

“W-well,” Julian stuttered. “Of course, Damian, I... uh...” 

Damian chuckled. “Can’t talk your way out of that one, can you?” 

“Ah, apparently not,” Julian mumbled. 

Damian grinned. Then he kissed Julian right on the lips. 

Neither of them cared that they were in the middle of the crowded market. Being in public didn’t really matter. Not when everyone knew their wedding was just around the corner. 

And everyone was ready for a real celebration. 

It had taken a while to clean up after Lucio’s messes. But, slowly but surely, Vesuvia was putting itself back together. The gold that Lucio had stolen went a long way towards letting families move back into their old homes and reopening a few previously closed shops. Julian had personally attended the reopening of that tea shop he had wanted to take Damian to... and said tea shop was quite eager to have the crown prince “grace them with his presence,” as they put it. Damian was certain that they were now using the fact that he’d gotten tea there a few times as some sort of publicity stunt, but he didn’t particularly mind. Especially not when he and Julian got such great service on any dates they might happen to have there. 

Some things, though, were never meant to go back to the way they had been. Lord Valerius’ Fine Clothing Emporium, for example, had been completely transformed. It wasn’t even a clothing shop anymore. And, more importantly, Valerius himself would never set foot in it again. It was hard to run a shop when one had been banished from Vesuvia for kidnapping and conspiring against the crown. 

Damian took a savage pride in that. No one deserved to be treated the way Valerius had treated Meleia and Volta. 

Damian was very glad that Meleia was coming to visit. They had a lot to talk about. 

When at last Damian and Julian had managed to pull away from each other, they were both grinning like idiots. Which, again, wasn’t that uncommon a sight. 

“So,” said Damian rather cheekily, “Are there any other perils I’m forgetting, aside from those dastardly fruit carts? Or are we free to head to the docks?” 

Julian thought about that for a moment. “Well, there _ is _ that special appearance at the bakery... it’s the grand opening of Selasi’s new shop, remember?” 

Damian’s face paled. “That was _ today? _ But I thought we had a week until--”

Julian burst out laughing. Damian glared at him. 

“_Julian."_

“Sorry, sorry!” Julian laughed, not sounding remotely sorry. “I couldn’t resist.” 

“You’re terrible,” Damian declared with all the affection in the world. 

“As that’s coming from the man whose first official royal decree was deciding that he could go out into the city whenever he wanted, I can hardly call that threatening,” Julian chuckled. 

“Thank you for helping me talk to Nadia about that, by the way,” said Damian. “I wouldn’t have been able to change my entire schedule around without your help.” 

Julian shook his head. “All I did was write down a few notes. You’re the one who did all the talking.” 

Damian shrugged. “I didn’t have to say much. She did agree very quickly. We’ve all been cooped up in the palace for far too long.” 

“Still,” said Julian, giving Damian’s hand an encouraging squeeze, “it took a lot of courage to tell the Queen that.” 

“She isn’t _ that _ scary,” Damian laughed. 

“She is absolutely terrifying,” Julian quipped. “I have _ no _ idea what Pasha sees in her.” 

Damian laughed even harder. “Don’t let Portia hear you say that.” 

“Oh, I’m sure she will,” said Julian, unashamed. “She knows I’m joking, of course.” He suddenly grew paler, if that were possible. “She _ does _ know I’m joking, right?” 

Damian just shrugged again. 

“Damian...?” 

“We should get going, shouldn’t we?” said Damian with a smirk. “You said it yourself... it could take a long time before the Crown Prince and his Royal Consort manage to make it to the docks.” 

He dashed forward before Julian could even react, slipping into the crowd with practiced ease. Julian was left standing there, staring at the spot where Damian had just been. 

“Hey... wait!” Julian said belatedly. “_Damian!_” 

After spending a good part of the year learning the ins and outs of his kingdom, Damian could easily have left even Julian behind. The palace had even given up on assigning him any guards on these trips. He ditched most of them too quickly. But he would never ditch Julian. It was always far better to travel with Julian, anyway. Particularly when Julian always managed to find a way for them both to escape whenever Damian was pinned down by a particularly unruly or upset townsperson. 

Damian didn’t have to travel in disguise anymore. Though the sight of his simple travel crown did often attract some unwanted attention, Damian never felt like he was in any danger. For one, now that he’d truly gotten to know his people, there were usually ten good samaritans willing to help him out of trouble for every upset or desperate person willing to get him _ into _ trouble. For another, Julian truly did have a way of making him feel like he could accomplish anything. 

Or, more accurately, like _ they _ could accomplish anything. Together. 

Julian caught up to Damian quickly. They navigated through the crowd together, answering questions and shaking hands all along the way. At last, they managed to reach the docks. And just in time. Meleia’s ship had just arrived. 

Damian didn’t even bother to hold back. He was so eager to see his friend again that he nearly ran himself off the edge of the docks. And he probably looked a little too eager when he searched the crowd. 

“Damian!” 

Apparently, Meleia had found him first. Damian turned, shooting his friend a grin. 

Meleia was still aboard the ship. She nearly tossed herself right over the railing as she grinned right back at him, waving almost frantically. Damian’s smile only widened. Meleia looked radiant. And it wasn’t just from the new dress, though Damian couldn’t help but notice her signature embroidery adorning it. She looked freer, somehow. More comfortable. Travel had clearly done her a world of good. 

Travel... and a few other things. Damian smirked when he saw Asra was by her side. The Majestro was impossible to miss: his hair almost glowed in the sunlight. And he seemed to glow himself, in a slightly different way from Meleia. Asra’s radiance was more muted, perhaps, but... well, Damian was fully aware that Asra was looking at Meleia exactly the same way that Julian often looked at him. 

Damian didn’t particularly feel like shouting, so he waved back and gestured towards the docks. Meleia nodded and rushed down the gangplank. In seconds, she had somehow managed to squeeze herself through the chaos that was the Vesuvian port and joined Damian. 

“Hi!” she said breathlessly. 

Damian laughed. “‘Hi’ to you, too. You look great.” 

Meleia absently fiddled with her skirt. A bit of her shyness had returned, but she still looked far more comfortable in her own skin. Some things, Damian supposed, would never really change. 

“Thanks,” she mumbled. “This one’s from... Galbrada, I think?” 

“Venterre, actually,” Asra corrected. He slid up to them almost silently and gave Meleia’s hand an affectionate squeeze. 

“Oh, right,” Meleia nodded, remembering. “When I sang for that fancy gala at the vineyard...” 

“You’ll have to tell me all about it later,” said Damian. “But I wasn’t talking about the dress... though it is beautiful. Your handiwork?” 

He gestured towards the embroidery. Meleia laughed awkwardly. 

“I know, I probably shouldn’t have, but I really couldn’t resist--”

“It’s fine,” Asra and Damian said at exactly the same moment. Then they laughed. 

“Gods, it’s great to see you two again,” Damian chuckled. “We have a lot to catch up on.” 

“I missed you, too,” Meleia said with that same shy smile Damian had gotten to know so well during her short stay in the palace. 

“How have things been?” Damian asked. “You seemed very happy in your letters...” 

“But that didn’t stop him from fussing about the two of you,” Julian laughed. He strode in and tossed a casual arm over Damian’s shoulder. 

Half of Damian wanted to shove Julian off of him for trying to embarrass him. But, once again, his more playful half won out. 

“Me?” he said innocently. “I’m fairly sure _ you _ were the one who kept rambling on about how likely they were to get themselves eaten by the dreaded Sand Beast of Nopal.” 

Julian coughed awkwardly. “I, uh, wouldn’t call it _ rambling, _exactly...” 

Asra chuckled. “No need to worry about that. The Sand Beast is actually very friendly. He even gave us a ride across the desert.” 

Julian froze. Damian could practically see his mind working as he tried to figure out if Asra were joking or not. Meleia’s giggles didn’t do anything to make it clearer. 

“Speaking of getting a ride...” Asra’s eyes trailed across the crowded docks. “I don’t see a royal carriage anywhere around here. I assume you came to escort us to the palace?” 

“Exactly,” said Damian at once, leaving Julian to flounder a bit more. “I thought you might appreciate a walk after being cooped up on a ship for so long.” 

“That sounds wonderful,” Meleia agreed. 

“There _ is _ a carriage just outside the market waiting for your bags,” Julian jumped in. “We could always ride if you needed to rest, but, ah...” 

“We’ll be just fine,” Asra assured him. 

“We could use the walk,” Meleia added. “And it’s been _ way _ too long since I’ve seen the city. I’m sure a lot has changed.” 

“A few things,” said Damian coyly. “And I’d be happy to give you the updates as we go. There are some things that I wanted to share in person. Nothing bad,” he added quickly when he saw Meleia’s worried expression. 

“Sounds like fun,” said Asra. 

Julian heaved a dramatic sigh. “Perhaps. It’s only a shame we couldn’t help the Majestro of Zadith and his princess-to-be travel in more style...” 

Meleia instantly turned bright red. Asra casually grabbed her hand. The move made her seashell bracelet glitter in the sunlight... as did her silver engagement ring set with two crystals, one pink and one purple, forming the shape of a heart. A similar ring gleamed on Asra’s finger as well. 

“Oho, are those the rings?” Julian chuckled. “They’re spectacular.” 

Meleia nodded. She seemed unable to form any words. But she looked incredibly happy. 

“You have no idea how thrilled we were when you told us the news,” Damian said with a grin. “And I have to admit, I can’t wait to see Zadith.” 

“So you’re coming?” Meleia asked. 

“Of course,” said Damian at once. “How could I miss my best friend’s official Zadith wedding ceremony? Besides, it’s the least I could do after you came all the way back here.” 

“I couldn’t miss my best friend’s wedding, either,” Meleia giggled. 

That, of course, was the reason that Meleia and Asra were here. Officially, they were considered envoys from Vesuvia’s sister kingdom of Zadith, there to attend the royal wedding. Meleia was also going to sing for the ceremony, as she’d promised nearly a year ago. That particular bit of gossip got out almost as quickly as word of the wedding had. Meleia had sung for every city she’d visited, and the stories about her spectacular performances had even reached Vesuvia. People were eager to see her in person. 

Unofficially, though... Meleia and Asra had a few plans on the side. Damian and Julian wouldn’t be the only ones getting married that week. 

“Thank you so much for letting us borrow the palace gardens, by the way,” said Meleia. 

“After you told me the story of how you two ran off right before a fancy dinner, I could hardly say no,” Damian laughed. 

Meleia snorted with laughter. “Well when you put it _ that _ way...” 

“I’m guessing it sounds a bit worse than it really was,” Julian laughed. “The way Pasha put it, it was _ quite _the story...” 

“Speaking of stories,” Meleia cut in, quickly trying to change the subject, “you said you had something to tell me?” 

“A few things,” said Damian. 

Meleia nodded, urging him on. Asra copied Julian’s idea and casually wrapped his arm around Meleia’s waist, holding her close. Damian couldn’t help but smile. It was good to see the two of them so close. After witnessing what Meleia had been through firsthand, Damian thought that no one deserved a wonderful partner like she did. 

And there was more good news on the way. 

“Well, to start, Volta’s doing very well,” Damian told her. 

Meleia’s face lit up. “That’s great! She’s all settled in at the palace? Your letters just said she was still there, but you never told me what she was doing.” 

“Oh, she’s a regular fixture, now,” said Damian. “We’ve never had a better food tester.” 

“That sounds perfect for her,” Meleia laughed. 

Julian elbowed Damian’s shoulder. “Tell her about the shop,” he whispered. 

“I was getting to it,” Damian hissed back. 

Clearly, Meleia had heard their frantic whispers. She blinked at both of them. 

“The shop?” she repeated. “You mean the clothing emporium? I thought it was closed...” 

“It is,” Damian assured her.

“So...?” 

Damian couldn’t hold back a smug grin. “Remember how you finally got a chance to take us to Selasi’s stall?”

“And how much Damian adored that pumpkin bread?” Julian chucked. 

Damian flushed, embarrassed. But Meleia just nodded, urging them to continue. Damian cleared his throat. 

“Well, a little while after you and the Majestro left, Nadia and I toured the city together,” Damian explained. “Portia and Julian came, too, of course. And Selasi’s bread was a huge hit for all of us. Now the palace orders it all the time. He’s made quite a bit of profit.” 

“That’s great news,” said Meleia. “But I’m not sure what it has to do with the old shop...” 

Damian’s smug smile returned. “Selasi’s earned enough to open an entire bakery. And there just so happened to be a bit of property lying around unclaimed.” 

Meleia gasped in pure delight. “No. Really?” 

“The official opening is next week,” Julian cut in, earning a glare from Damian. 

Meleia didn’t notice the glare. Though Damian thought he caught Asra trying to hide a snicker. 

“That’s amazing!” Meleia cried. “I only hope you can actually get everything set up... is there even room for a good oven in there?” 

Damian laughed. “Don’t worry. We’ve had some of the finest builders in the kingdom set everything up. Nadia was rather eager to find a new use for that building as well.” 

“I can imagine why,” Meleia grumbled. 

“Yes, well...” Damian cleared his throat again. “Julian and I are actually going to make an appearance at the grand opening. It’s a few days before the wedding. I’m sure Selasi would love to see you. And the people of Vesuvia would adore an extra chance to catch the Songstress of Zadith in person.” 

Meleia’s laugh was even more awkward than before. “I don’t know... the limelight can get a little tiring, you know? I wouldn’t mind a bit of peace and quiet.” 

“You don’t have to sing if you don’t want to,” Asra assured her. 

Meleia looked at Damian, concerned. “But, Damian, if you want me to, I’d be happy to--”

Damian held up a hand, making Meleia stop short. “Don’t worry. I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t feel comfortable doing. Besides, singing for our wedding is more than enough.” 

“I feel like I should do more for you, though,” said Meleia. “Since you’re letting us have our ceremony by the fountain... and we’re dragging you all the way to Zadith...” 

“You aren’t dragging us anywhere,” Julian chuckled. “I don’t think there’s any force on earth that _ can _ drag the two of us.”

“Good point,” Meleia giggled. “But, really, I wouldn’t mind a little performance. Especially if it’s for Selasi.” 

“He’ll be thrilled to hear it,” said Damian with a grin. 

“I’m glad to see everything is going well,” Asra cut in with a genuine smile. “Seems Vesuvia won’t be having any monetary problems any time soon.” 

“Thanks to Damian’s crystals,” Julian said proudly. 

“I’ve heard Dhakhar has shown interest in making an alliance thanks to those crystals,” said Asra. “They’ve certainly made a lot of money with all that snow silver you requested...” 

Julian’s eyes widened. “How did you know about that?” 

“We visited Dhakhar for a little while,” said Meleia, smiling at the memory. “That was really nice of the king to treat us to dinner like that.” 

“You had dinner with the king of Dhakhar?” said Damian, impressed. “How’d you manage that?” 

“It was sort of an apology dinner,” Meleia laughed. 

Julian grinned. “Sounds like you got into your fair share of trouble.” 

“It wasn’t _ trouble, _ ” said Asra, flushing. “Well, not _ big _ trouble.” 

“What happened?” Damian asked with interest. 

Asra coughed. “We... sort of... got caught up in a heist?” 

“Really?” Julian laughed. “You didn’t sneak into anything else in disguise, did you?” 

Meleia giggled. Asra turned redder. 

“No!” he cried defensively. “It wasn’t our fault! A carriage crashed into the inn where we were staying!” 

“Sounds like a real story,” Damian chuckled. “Seems like you never did get a moment of quiet to read that book of yours, Meleia.” 

Meleia laughed, surprised. “Actually, I did. Carriage rides can get pretty long. As can boat rides.” 

“That, and Meleia and I both like to unwind with a good book after a long day of traveling,” said Asra fondly. 

Meleia flushed a bit. “That, too.” 

Damian grinned. It seemed that Meleia and the Majestro really did suit one another. He was very glad that he had misunderstood the idea of joining their two kingdoms. Meleia made a much better partner for Asra than Damian ever could. 

And Damian couldn’t imagine a better partner for himself than Julian. 

The two couples chatted the entire rest of the walk back to the palace. None of them noticed how long the walk truly was, but they certainly noticed how hungry they were when they finally got there. It was nearly dinnertime. Nadia and Portia had already planned for that. They truly did make a remarkable team. Portia’s eye for detail and expertise in running a large household matched very well with Nadia’s interest in doing all she could for her kingdom and love of spoiling the people she cared about. 

Nadia and Portia’s wedding hadn’t been planned yet, but the palace was buzzing with anticipation. Everyone knew that particular announcement wouldn’t be too far off. Especially since Nadia and Portia had been working hand in hand ever since Lucio’s arrest. Sometimes quite literally. 

Portia was happy to tell Asra and Meleia (and anyone who would listen, as Julian quipped) that she had taken over all of Lucio’s duties. Now on top of being Nadia’s right-hand woman and most trusted confidant, she was the palace’s most influential advisor. 

“And I’m doing a _ way _ better job than that self-absorbed traitor ever did!” she declared during dinner. 

Asra and Meleia both immediately agreed. 

Over dinner, they swapped stories and fully caught each other up on what had happened in the past year. Nadia was quick to inform them that the fountain in the garden was in perfect condition and nearly ready for Asra and Meleia’s private ceremony. 

They would have a properly royal wedding ceremony when they got back to Zadith. Not to mention a grand celebration. But both Meleia and Asra had wanted a chance to get married without all the pomp and circumstance. And the fountain was a special place for both of them. So they had asked to hold their true wedding there, with only a few close friends attending... namely Damian, Julian, Portia, Nadia, Muriel, and all their animal companions. 

Nadia had considered it an honor to accept. 

The ceremony itself was beautiful. The garden had been immaculately decorated with little twinkling lights that seemed almost magical. Meleia looked absolutely radiant in a gown she had made herself. And Asra’s own beautiful white outfit was nothing compared to his glowing smile. 

Damian found himself holding Julian’s hand during the entire ceremony. Julian was crying from the joy and beauty of it all. Damian had to hold back a laugh. He wondered how much of a mess Julian would be by the end of the week, when their own ceremony was held. 

Though Damian had to admit he teared up a bit himself when Asra and Meleia shared their first kiss as a married couple. 

A few days later, they made their appearance at Selasi’s new bakery. Meleia seemed very happy with the changes made to her old home. 

“At least no one’s going to be sleeping on an old mat in the attic anymore,” she said with a bitter laugh. 

“That reminds me,” Damian mused. “Where _ are _ you going to live? Once you’re done traveling, of course.” 

“Asra’s parents gave me a special room in their castle,” said Meleia, beaming. “But I guess it doesn’t really matter. As long as Asra’s there, I can find home wherever I am.” 

“That’s adorable,” Julian cooed. “You know, your life would be the perfect plotline for a play.” 

“As long as Meleia gets to play the lead,” Asra cut in, wrapping his arm around her waist again. 

Meleia laughed. “I dunno. I think Julian would make a great me, don’t you?” 

“If Damian plays Asra, then why not?” Julian laughed. 

“I don’t think _ anyone _ can match your level of drama,” Damian teased. 

Julian gasped. “Dramatic? _ Me? _ Why, how _ dare _ you, sir? I am absolutely affronted.” 

“You are?” Damian’s went wide. “I am _ so _ sorry! You know I never meant to hurt you. I was just...” 

Julian’s smile instantly vanished. “Oh, Damian, I was just kidding, I didn’t mean--”

Damian’s expression instantly changed into a smirk. “Gotcha.” 

Meleia tried to hold back her giggles. Asra laughed outright, unashamed. Julian stood there for a full three seconds, staring at Damian in utter shock. Then he, too, burst out laughing. 

“That was _ amazing, _” he said with a grin. “We’ll make a thespian out of you, yet.” 

“I learned from the master,” said Damian.

He leaned closer to Julian with a teasing smile. Julian instantly turned red all the way to his ears. When the two kissed, Asra wolf-whistled. Julian turned even redder, but other than that, both of them ignored the Majestro’s antics. And the kiss got a surprisingly lackluster response from the assembled crowd, aside from a few good-natured chuckles. It wasn’t exactly an uncommon sight, after all. 

Besides, their first kiss as a married couple was bound to get a much better reaction. 

The wedding itself went off without a hitch. No one stormed in to interrupt it. There were no fights with Lucio’s goons. No rampaging dogs. And definitely no giant ice sculptures. The decorations in general weren’t anywhere near as over-the-top and gaudy as they had been for the event Lucio had attempted to throw. It was all very tastefully arranged. Everything was black and gold: deep black for Julian’s favorite color, and soft gold to match Damian’s eyes. 

The gold had been Julian's Idea. Damian had turned completely red the moment Julian suggested it. But it really worked out. And the gesture was so grand and sweet and so incredibly _ Julian _ that Damian couldn’t possibly say no. 

Damian thought he probably should have been nervous when the wedding started. He was sure Julian was a bundle of anxiety as he waited at the altar. But Damian had never felt better. 

It certainly helped that Meleia was there. She was supposed to be getting ready to sing, but she couldn’t resist helping Damian with the last little details on his suit for the wedding. He’d never looked better after Meleia’s expert handiwork. And when she finally did perform... well. Her voice was as incredible as ever. He loved seeing her get completely lost in her music. And he particularly loved the song they had chosen. 

It was a song about new beginnings. About how one could always carve their own path. 

The same exact song that had led the two of them to meet. 

Damian thought it had never rung more true than it did that day. All four of them had their entire lives in front of them. Damian was sure that this would include their fair share of trouble, too. But they would get through it. And if there were any setbacks... they could always start anew. Just like in Meleia’s song, it was never too late to set things right. 

He was so distracted by her song that he almost forgot to walk down the aisle. Thankfully, Nadia was there to help get him moving. And he couldn’t help but notice that her eyes were glistening with barely held tears as she beamed at him while they walked down together. 

The ceremony was little more than a blur to Damian. He was too busy looking at Julian. Julian, for his part, was grinning from ear to ear. 

Gods, Damian would always love that stupid smile. 

Neither of them would know if Damian had guessed right about the crowd’s reaction to their first official married kiss. They were both too focused on each other. 

The celebration lasted the rest of the day, and well into the evening. They spent a few more days around the palace, both recovering from the celebration (though they were certain that others were still celebrating) and making sure the last few arrangements for their next journey were taken care of. 

Then, at last, Julian and Damian set off in the royal carriage. They were heading to the docks. Officially, they were going on their honeymoon. It wasn’t really a lie; there certainly would be a lot of romantic moments to come. And they would have nearly a week entirely to themselves before they met up with Meleia and Asra again in Zadith. 

Asra and Meleia saw them off at the docks, promising to help take care of things at the palace for a while. After they parted, Damian and Julian grabbed each other’s hands and ran up the gangplank. And the instant Julian was aboard, he shucked off the coat that was emblazoned with the royal symbol of Vesuvia, tossed it at Damian, and scampered up the rigging like a monkey. In an instant, he was perfectly silhouetted against the sun. 

“Julian,” Damian laughed, “what are you...?” 

“Told you I had a stint on a pirate ship, didn’t I?” Julian shouted back gleefully. Then he took a deep breath, drinking in the salty sea air. He let out a satisfied sigh. “Ah, home sweet home.” 

“We haven’t even started going to Nevivon yet,” Damian quipped. 

“Perhaps,” Julian chuckled. “But it’s like Asra and Meleia always say, isn’t it? Home is wherever we are, as long as we’re together.” 

“Something like that,” Damian chuckled. 

He and Julian were nothing like Asra and Meleia, as far as their relationship went. Asra and Meleia had a more quiet kind of affection around them. Each was a constant presence in the other’s lives. 

As for himself and Julian? Well. Julian had always been far from _ quiet. _ And Damian wouldn’t have it any other way. 

The thought of Meleia and Asra made him realize that they must have been on countless ships before. This was Damian’s first trip out of Vesuvia. He should probably make the most of it. 

He caught the eye of a random member of the crew and waved them over. 

“Hold this,” said Damian. 

He unceremoniously plopped Julian’s cloak in the sailor’s hands. Then he took off his own crown and handed that over as well. And he did his best to climb up the rigging and join Julian. It was nothing like climbing a rocky wall. He lost his grip about halfway up. But he wasn’t worried. Julian was right there to catch him. Julian’s hand was around Damian’s wrist in a flash. 

“Why, fancy seeing you here,” Julian teased, grinning. 

Damian grinned right back. “You know, you always did have a way of sweeping me off my feet, but this seems a little much, doesn’t it?” 

Julian was still smiling, but he looked a little guilty. “You want to go back down?” 

“And miss this amazing view?” Damian shot back. “Not a chance.” 

He wasn’t looking at the horizon or the ocean. He was looking right at Julian. And Julian knew. He must have, or he wouldn’t have turned so red. 

“Well,” Julian coughed. “Who am I to deny the prince?” 

Damian settled back as best as he could while dangling precariously from ship ropes. “You know it doesn’t matter if I’m the prince or not. Right now, it’s just us. Off on another adventure.” 

Julian laughed. “That sounds perfect, my dear. Well, then... next stop, Nevivon! Or maybe our happily ever after?” 

Damian turned to look at the docks. They were sliding farther and farther away, the port of Vesuvia slipping out of view. The wind swept through his hair. Julian’s hand was still tight in his. And his two best friends in the whole world were back at the palace, ready and waiting to join them in what was sure to be another grand adventure. 

Damian couldn’t stop smiling. He’d never felt so free in his life. Julian was right. It really did sound perfect. 

“Next stop,” Damian declared, “anywhere.” 

They had their entire lives in front of them. Their happily ever after wasn’t an ending. It was just the beginning. 

And Damian wouldn’t change it for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it! 
> 
> Thank you all again for sticking with me all the way to the end! I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> HUGE shout out to my best friend who not only proofread the entire thing but also gave me the wonderful idea for Asra and Meleia's engagement rings. Just too perfect not to use!


End file.
